3  1153  002MbflM7  D  .. 


jptttKai/OIlm 


Number. 


Presented  by 
>irs.  -Joseph  H.   White. 


BX 
[      7233 

\      B4 
i;      355 
;      1869 
v.l 


is  book  may  be  kept  two  weeks. 


This  book  paper  is  highly  acidic  due  to  the 
methods  and  ingredients  used  in  its  manufac- 
ture. As  a  resuh  it  has  become  brittle  with  age. 
Please  handle  with  care  so  that  information 
will  not  be  lost  to  future  readers. 

A  long-range  goal  of  the  Library  is  to  pur- 
chase an  acid-free  reprint  or  microform  copy 
to  replace  this  volume,  or  to  reproduce  it  in- 
house  on  acid-free  paper. 

Thank  you  for  helping  to  preserve  the  Univer-  j 
sity's  research  collections.  I 

*•  -T  TT  I    TT  "  "  " 


N 


I 


^ 


THE    SERMONS  ^a  ' 


HENEY  WAED  BEECHEE,        \ 


Plyjnoutk  Church,  Brooklyii, 

FROM  VERBATIM  REPORTS  BY  T.  J.  ELLINWOOD. 

"PLYMOUTH    PULPIT," 

FIRST  SERIES: 

SEPTEMBER    1868  — MARCH,  1869. 


NEW    YORK : 

J.  B.  FORD   &   COMPANY,  39  PARK  ROW. 

1869. 


V.  I 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1869,  by 
J.    B.    FORD    &    CO., 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


PREFACE. 


No  better  definition  of  the  sphere  of  the  Pulpit  can  be  given 
than  the  Apostle's  words  upon  the  sacred  Scripture.  It  is  "  for 
doctrine,  for  reproof,  for  correction,  for  instruction  in  righteous- 
ness ;  that  the  man  of  God  may  be  perfect,  thoroughly  furnished 
unto  all  good  works." 

The  end  aimed  at  is  the  formation  of  "  perfect  men  in 
Clirist  Jesus."  The  instrument  employed  is  persuasion  based 
upon  knowledge.  Thus  far  all  preachers  stand  on  common 
ground.  But  beyond  this,  every  thing  must  be  left  to  the  dis- 
cretion of  those  who  preach. 

The  condition  of  the  community,  or  of  the  particular  congre- 
gation, will  determine  what  proportion  instruction  shall  hold  to 
persuasion.  The  form  which  instruction  shall  take,  —  whether 
it  shall  employ  the  simple  statements  of  the  facts  of  moral  con- 
sciousness, or  the  elaborate  arrangement  of  learning,  or  shall 
pursue  a  line  of  philosophical  argument,  —  will  depend  upon  the 
habits  of  the  age,  the  peculiar  condition  of  society,  the  nature 
of  the  preacher  himself. 

One  thing  is  certain.  The  whole  world  is  the  preacher's 
magazine.  Whatever,  in  the  whole  range  of  human  knowledge, 
can  be  used  to  persuade  men  to  godliness,  it  is  lawful  for  the 
preacher  to  employ.  Every  thing  is  "  fit  for  the  pulpit "  that 
can  be  made  to  have  power  for  good  on  the  human  soul.  The 
fruit  of  a  preacher's  labor  is  the  best  justification  or  condem- 
nation of  his  judgment  in  the  selection  of  topics  and  material. 
As  the  sheaves  are  the  proof  of  good  husbandry,  so  are  good 
men,  after  the  pattern  of  Jesus  Christ,  the  only  proper  test  of 
a  good  ministry. 

At  some  periods  of  history  the  Puljjit  has  been  obliged  to  do 
the  worlc  of  the  printing-press,  and  of  the  lecturer's  chair.  In 
our  day,  essays,  pliilosophical  disquisitions,  ethical  treatises,  and 


IV  PEEFACE. 

histories  are  supplied  abundantly  from  other  sources.  The 
Pulpit  finds  its  materials  already  created.  The  preacher,  like  a 
good  housekeeper,  selects  from  food  already  collected,  and  pre- 
pares the  special  meal  for  the  daily  wants  of  his  family. 

Sermons  will  be  interesting,  not  by  the  merit  of  their  contents, 
but  by  their  skillful  adaptation  to  the  wants  of  men.  The 
master-sermons  of  one  age  will  fall  powerless  on  another. 
When  the  age  craved  it,  it  was  wise  for  Puritan  divines  to 
preach  whole  bodies  of  divinity,  set  forth  with  vast  learning, 
and  with  a  minuteness  that  would  now  be  insufferably  tedious. 

In  our  day,  sermons  that  are  only  chapters  of  theology  will  be 
read  by  few,  not  because  they  are  not  good,  but  because  they  are 
not  adapted  to  the  present  want. 

The  sermons  that  will  be  read  by  multitudes  are  those  which 
bring  God's  infinite  truth  into  vital  relations  with  the  thoughts, 
sympathies,  enterprises,  habits,  loves,  hatreds,  temptations  and 
sins,  ideals  and  aspirations  of  the  times  in  which  the  preacher 
lives.  A  few  sermons  there  are,  a  very  few,  that'  so  grasp  the 
heart-truths  in  their  universal  forms  as  to  be  interesting  and 
powerful  alike  in  every  age.  But  few  good  sermons  can  live 
longer  than  the  generation  for  which  they  were  made.  The  true 
preacher  is  to  be  eminently  a  man  of  his  own  time.  He  is  to 
be  in  sympathy,  not  with  ideas  and  truths  alone,  but  with  living 
men.  To  know  merely  what  men  thought  a  hundred  years  ago, 
—  to  be  learned  only  in  the  things  that  men  wanted  in  other 
ages,  —  is  to  be  but  a  pulpit  antiquary.  The  printing-press  may 
preach  essays.  The  pulpit  is  for  living  truth  aimed  at  living 
men.  No  matter  if  sermons  are  transient  in  their  effects.  So 
are  drops  of  rain.  But,  in  both  cases,  shower  follows  shower, 
and,  wdiile  no  one  drop  endures,  the  vegetable  kingdom  grows 
and  thrives  through  all  ages.  Sermons  perish,  but  men  live. 
It  is  a  token  for  good  when  so  many  are  interested  in  reading 
sermons  that  publishers  find  it  for  their  interest  to  spread  them 
abroad, 

I  shall  be  glad  indeed  if  these  discourses,  prepared  for  my 
own  congregation,  and  preached  week  by  week  from  my  own 
pulpit,  shall  be,  to  others  far  away,  both  food  and  medicine. 

HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 
Brooklyn,  N.  Y.,  March  17,  1869. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB 

I.  The  Dutt  of  Using  One's  Life  for  Others  (Titus  ii.  14) 1 

II.  The  God  of  Comfort  (2  Cor.  i.  3,  4) 18 

III.  The  Nobility  of  Confession  (Matt.  iii.  5,  6) 29 

IV.  Self-Control  Possible  to  All  (1  Cor.  ix.  25)  45 

V.  Pilate,  and  his  Modern  Imitators  (Mat.  xxvii.  24,  25) 61 

VI.  The  Strong  to  Bear  with  the  Weak  (Rom.  xv.  1) 75 

Lesson  :  Eomans  xiv.    Hymns*  :  Nos.  498,  494,  988. 

Vll.  Growth  in  the  Knowledge  of  God  (2  Pet.  iii.  18) 93 

Lesson  :  Colossians  i.    Hymns  :  Nos.  655,  607. 

VIII.  Contentment  in  all  Things  (Phil.  iv.  11,  12) 109 

Lesson:  Philippians  iii.    Hymns:  Nos.  551,  249,   "  Sbining  Shore." 

IX.  Abhorrence  of  Etil  (Rom.  xii.  9) 129 

Lesson  :  Psalm  x.    Hymns  :  787,  878,  1011. 

X.  Privileges  of  the  Christian  (Heb.  xii.  22-24).    ...,,,. 147 

Lesson  :  Hebrews  xii.    Hymns  :  Nos.  286,  635, 1244. 

XI.  The  Love  of  Money  (1  Tira.  vi.  9-11) 163 

Lesson  :  Psalm  Ixsiii.    Hymns  :  Nos.  180,  905,  500. 

XII.  Divine  Influence  on  the  Human  Soul  (Rom.  viii.  26) 181 

Lesson  :  Eom.  viii.    Hymns  :  Nos.  218,  660,  262. 

XIII.  Moral  Affinity,  the  True  Ground  of  Unity  (Matt.  xii.  46-50) 195 

Lesson  :  Rev.  xxi.    Hymns  :  1259,  1233,  1257. 

XIV.  The  Value  of  Deep  Feelings  (Lulce  vii.  47) 211 

Lesson  :  Luke  vii.  29-50.    Hymns  :  Nos.  384,  435,  452. 

XV.  Works  Meet  for  Repentance  (Acts  xix.  8-20) 229 

Lesson:  Acts  xix.  8-20.    Hymns  :  Nos.  215,  764,  1254. 

XVI.  Malign  Spiritual  Influences  (1  Peter  v   8,  9) 245 

Lesson  :  Psalm  xxiii.    Hymns  :  Nos.  769,  865,  .384. 

XVII.  The  Old  and  the  New  (Heb.  ix.  15) 261 

Lesson  :  Heb.  xiii.  5-16.    Hymns  :  Nos.  666,  1272,  12.57. 

XVIII.  The  Hidden  Christ  (Luke  xxiv.  31) 275 

Lesson  :  Luke  xxiv.  13-53.    Hymns  :  Nos.  212,  898, 1263. 

XIX.  Well- Wishing,  not  Well-Doing  (Matt.  xxi.  30) 289 

Lesson  :  James  ii.    Hymns  :  Nos.  495,  529, 1237. 

*  Plymouth  Collection- 


VI  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

XX.  Sphere  of  the  Christian  Minister  (Acts  xxvii.  10,  11) 305 

Lesson  :  Acts  xxvii.  1-25.    Hymns  :  Nos.  180,  510,  980. 

XXI.  Suffering,  the  Measure  of  Worth  (1  Cor.  viii.  11,  12) 325 

Lesson  :  1  Cor.  ix.    Htmns  :  Nos.  117,  907,  949. 

XXn.  The  Victory  of  Hope  in  Sorrow  (1  Thess.  iv.  13) 341 

Lesson  :  2  Cor.  iv.  15-18,  v.  1-11.    Hymns  :  119,  905, 1272. 

XXIII.  The  Crime  of  Degrading  Men  (Matt,  xviii.  6,  7) 35Y 

Lesson  :  Psalm  x.    Hymns  :  Nos.  503,  274, 1259. 

XXIV.  Self-Conceit  in  Morals  (Matt.  xxi.  31) 373 

Lesson  :  Matt.  xxii.    Hymns  :  Nos.  40,  889,  923. 

XXV.  Morality,  the  Basis  of  Piety  (Eph.  iv.  22-30) 389 

Lesson  :  Prov.  iv.  5-18.    Hymns  :  Nos.  569,  564. 

XXVI.  The  Trinity  (Eph.  iv.  30) 405 

Lesson  :  Phil.  ii.    Hymns  :  Nos.  296,  381,  823. 

XXVII.  The  Family  as  an  American  Institution  (Gen.  xviii.  18,  19) ...   424 

Lesson:  Psalm  cxlviii.    Hymns :  Nos.  115,  1004.    Anthem:  " Praise  the  Lord." 


THE   DUTY 


OF 


USING  ONE'S  LIFE  FOR  OTHERS. 


THE 


DUTY  OF  USING  ONE'S  LIFE  FOR  OTHERS. 

SUNDAY    MORNING,   SEPTEMBER    20,   1868. 


"  Who  gave  himself  for  us,  that  he  might  redeem  us  from  all  iniquity,  and  puri- 
fy unto  himself  a  peculiar  people,  zealous  of  good  works." — Titus  ii.  14. 


"  "Who  gave  himself  for  us."  We  are  familiar  with  the  expression 
that  Jesus  Christ  gave  his  life  for  man.  I  would  not  take  any  thing 
away  from  the  meaning  and  magnitude  of  the  act  of  dying ;  but  I 
should  be  glad  to  give  more  emphasis  and  power  to  the  fact  that 
Christ  gave  his  life  as  much  while  he  was  living  as  while  he  was  dy- 
ing, and  that  to  give  life  may  mean  either  to  use  it  or  to  lay  it  down. 
To  yield  up  life  to  disease,  to  old  age,  to  any  of  the  ordinary  influ- 
ences which  destroy  human  life  ;  to  do  it  reluctantly;  to  fight  against 
it,  and  strive  for  life — this  has  no  moral  meaning.  Death  is  a  part 
of  the  organic  condition  of  creation ;  and  dying  has  no  moral  force 
unless  it  becomes  voluntary.  A  man  may  accept  death  as  a  testimony 
to  his  faith  ;  or,  as  a  better  alternative  than  betraying  a  trust ;  or,  in 
the  defense  of  a  cause,  a  family,  or  a  country.  This  is  heroic.  It  is 
the  highest  single  action  which  a  man  can  achieve.  It  is  retrospective 
and  inclusive  of  all  the  great  reasons  which  make  life  desirable. 
When  one  consents  to  die,  he  does  not  consent  simply  to  take  the 
2yain  of  death — for  that  usually  is  very  little.  In  half  the  deaths 
there  is  no  more  pain  than  in  falling  asleep.  It  is  seldom  that  men 
do  not  suffer  in  single  days  or  weeks,  while  pursuing  their  avocations, 
as  much  or  more  \;neasiness  and  pain,  fourfold,  than  death  inflicts. 
In  some  cases  death  is  preceded  by  great  suffering ;  but  these  cases 
are  exceptional.  Commonly  it  is  balm,  not  anguish.  Indigestion, 
and  its  train  of  horrors  ;  neuralgia,  and  its  warp  and  woof  of  fiery 
threads;  rheumatism,  and  many  other  ills  that  are  common  to  man, 
are  a  hundred- fold  harder  to  bear  than  dying.  It  may  be  said,  gen- 
erally, that  life  suffers,  and  death  soothes.     The  moral  worth,  then, 


2  BUTT  OF    VSING    ONE'S    LIFE  FOR   OTHERS. 

of  dying,  is  by  no  means  to  be  measured  by  its  suffering,  as  if  to  take 
on  so  much  suffering  was  an  act  of  transcendent  lieroism. 

It  is  that  wbicli  one  gives  up,  also,  that  in  part  is  to  enter  into 
the  moral  estimate  of  a  voluntary  dying.  For  to  die  willingly,  and 
for  a  reason,  is  to  offer  the  sum  total  of  life,  and  all  its  hopes,  joys, 
and  aspirations,  to  that  reason.  All  pleasures  of  life,  all  innocent 
enjoyments,  all  affections,  all  honors  and  inspirations,  all  things  which 
one  would  count  riches  in  life,  are  voluntarily  given  up  when  we  gwe-> 
not  yield  life.  In  this  view,  dying  is  really  the  offering  a  sacrifice  of 
one's  living — that  is,  of  all  the  elements  which  make  life  desirable; 
and  the  moral  significance  of  the  act  is  to  be  measured  by  the  value 
of  life,  in  all  its  pursuits,  honors,  enjoyments,  and  dignities,  to  the 
victim. 

But  you  have  noticed,  in  the  passage  whence  we  have  taken  oirr 
text,  that  it  is  said  that  Christ  gave,  not  his  life,  but  himself.  He 
gave  himself  in  dying ;  but  he  also  gave  himself  in  limng.  All  his 
life  was  a  giving.  Although,  com2:>rehensively  viewed,  it  was  a  sin- 
gle gift,  yet  it  was  a  continuous  gift,  developing  in  every  direction. 
It  was  a  multiple  force,  ever  varying.  It  was  one  prolonged  giving 
of  himself  away  to  others.  For  he  lived  not  for  himself.  He  sought 
not  his  own.  He  did  not  employ  his  reason,  nor  his  moral  senti- 
ments, nor  his  active  forces,  nor  his  time,  nor  his  power,  for  himself. 
He  honored  his  Father,  and  sought  the  welfare  of  men.  And  the 
three  years,  or  nearly  three,  that  preceded  his  death,  were  in  some 
respects  a  far  more  remarkable  gift  than  was  the  death  itself.  And 
in  the  case  of  our  divine  Lord,  he  gave  himself  both  while  living  and 
while  dying. 

It  is  true  that  there  entered  into  the  death  of  Christ  other  elements 
than  those  which  belong  to  any,  even  the  greatest,  man's  death ;  that 
there  were  in  it  avowed,  though  unexplained,  relations  to  the  invisi- 
ble world,  and  to  moral  influences.  I  believe  that  the  death  of  Christ 
Lad  some  influence  that  was  far  different  from  any  thing  which  we 
appreciate,  and  other  than  any  thing  that  we  know.  What  it  is  I 
can  not  tell.  It  is  declared  simply  as  a  fact,  and  left  there.  These 
influences  men  dying  do  not  need.  It  is  not  necessary  that  in  their 
death  for  others  they  should  have  a  relation  to  the  universe,  as  Christ 
had.  The  salient  fact  which  we  put  forward  is  this :  that  Christ  gave 
himself.,  living  and  dying,  for  the  world.  He  nsed  his  life  for  others 
as  really  as  he  laid  it  down  for  them.  He  gave  his  life  while  it  was 
in  his  own  keeping,  as  really  as  when  it  was  taken  away  from  him. 
And  the  gift  of  Christ  is  the  gift  in  its  totality,  in  all  the  variations 
of  his  experience.  Tliough  on  some  accounts  the  tragic  circumstances 
of  his  death  lift  it  up  into  conspicuity,  though  by  reason  of  man's 
feai-s  and  man's  education  there  is  given  to  it  a  sombre  importance 


BUTT  OF   USING    ONE'S  LIFE  FOR   OTHERS.  3 

that  belongs  to  no  single  act  of  Ills  life,  yet  I  think  we  become 
clearer  in  our  moral  perceptions,  and  finer  in  our  nature,  and  learn 
not  only  not  to  disesteem  that  part  of  Christ's  example,  but  also  to  go 
back  and  give  far  more  emj)hasis  to  the  other  part,  and  to  lift  up  the 
daily  conversations,  the  daily  j^atience,  the  daily  love,  the  ten  thou- 
sand fidelities  which  belong  to  so  great  a  life,  carried  wholly  for  its 
benefit  upon  others,  and  not  at  all  for  his  own  mere  personal  conve- 
nience or  gain.  We  learn  to  give  to  this  an  emphasis  which  it  lacks 
too  often. 

So  the  lesson  to  be  derived,  it  seems  to  me,  from  many  of  the 
descriptions  of  Christ's  gift  of  himself,  is  a  lesson  to  be  pondered  in 
regard  to  the  use  of  our  lives,  rather  than  in  regard  to  their  termina- 
tion. We  give  our  life  best,  not  when  we  die,  bui  while  yet  we  are 
living. 

It  is  true  that  men  often  give  their  lives  in  some  sense  as  Christ 
did ;  but  the  more  obvious  and  the  more  common  and  attainable 
imitation  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  that  Avhich  seeks  to  imitate  his 
life,  rather  than  his  death.  No  man  can  give  his  life  for  the  world  as 
Christ  did.  Though  a  man  may  give  his  life  for  the  world,  no  man 
can  stand  sinless ;  but  he  did.  No  man  is  related  to  God  as  was  the 
Saviour.  From  no  man  reaches  out  those  threads  which  connect  him. 
with  the  spiritual  and  invisible  realm  as  Christ  was  connected  with  it.. 
What  thfr  other-side  influence  was  I  have  said  we  do  not  know ;  but 
that  there  was  one  we  are  told.  And  this  we  can  not  have.  Here  is 
a  grand  ofiicial  difierence.  There  is  a  universal  character  belonging 
to  the  influence  of  the  deatli  of  Christ  which  does  not  and  can  not 
belong  to  that  of  any  man.  Yet,  in  so  fir  as  moral  influence  is  ex- 
erted by  one's  death  on  his  fellow-men,  it  is  possible,  though  in  a  far 
lower  sphere,  and  in  a  for  less  degree,  tliat  we  should  follow  and 
imitate  our  Lord  by  giving  our  life  for  one  another. 

Every  patriot  who  is  sacrificed,  on  account  of  the  heroic  fidelity 
of  his  lite,  to  the  public  weal;  every  martyr  whose  blood  is  shed  as 
a  seal  and  witness  of  that  holy  faith  by  which  he  would  illumine  and 
bless  the  world ;  every  prisoner  lingering  in  dungeons,  and,  with 
long  dying,  suffering  unseen  and  forgotten  by  the  multitudes  for 
whose  welfare  his  life  is  spent ;  every  man  who  goes  forth  to  lands  of 
fever  and  malaria,  and  to  early  death,  knowing  that  he  carries  religion, 
civilization,  and  liberty  to  the  ignorant,  at  the  price  of  his  own  life,  and 
cheeriully  dies  in  the  harness  there,  -where  men,  being  most  degraded 
and  thankless,  are  on  that  very  account  more  needful  of  this  very  sac- 
rifice of  some  one — all  these,  and  all  others  whose  death  is  brought 
about  by  persistent  adhesion  to  the  welfore  of  men,  follow  their  Lord 
not  less  really  because  the  sphere  is  lower  and  narrower.  Tliey  follow 
their  Lord  m  death,  and- ^//ro^^^A  death.     For,  docs  not  tlie  little 


4  BUTT  OF    USING    ONE'S  LIFE  FOR    OTHERS. 

five-year-old  cliild  follow  his  father  because  it  requires  three  of  his 
little  footsteps  to  measure  a  single  stride  of  his  father  ?  He  follows 
him  in  speech,  though  he  prattles.  He  follows  him,  though  it  be  in 
weakness,  and  more  slowly  and  wearisomely.  And  all  who  willingly 
yield  life  for  the  sake  of  a  moral  cause,  or  a  beneficent  influence,  fol- 
low their  Lord  and  Master  just  so  far  as  these  things  are  concerned. 

And  so,  too,  in  their  humbler  sphere,  do  all  those  follow  Christ 
who  cheerfully  put  their  life  in  jeopardy,  or  offer  it  up  in  the  fulfill- 
ment of  their  public  duties. 

Every  humble  watchman,  guarding  the  peace  of  the  city,  and  its 
property,  who  falls  down  bleeding  under  the  brutal  strokes  of  thieves 
or  burglars ;  every  faithful  policeman,  who,  to  preserve  the  public 
peace,  is  slain  in  neighborhood  tussles  or  public  riots  and  brawls,  is  a 
martyr  to  dutj^,  and  to  puhlic  duty.  Nor  should  the  obscurity  of 
their  name  lead  us  lightly  to  esteem  this  great  gift,  which  they  offer 
to  society,  of  life. 

There  are  men  of  wealth  in  New- York,  honored,  because  prosper- 
ous, who  heap  up  riches,  and  hoard  them,  and  live  in  a  magnificent 
selfishness.  They  use  the  whole  of  society  as  a  cluster  to  be  squeezed 
into  their  cup.  They  are  neither  active  in  any  enterprise  of  good, 
except  for  their  own  prosperity,  nor  generous  to  their  fellows.  They 
build  palaces,  and  fill  them  sumptuously ;  but  the  poor  starve  and 
freeze  around  about  them.  No  struggling  creature  of  the  army  of 
the  weak  ever  blesses  them.  And  yet  their  names  are  heralded. 
They  walk  in  specious  and  spectacular  honor.  Men  flatter  them,  and 
fawn  upon  them.  Dying,  the  newspapers,  like  so  many  trumpets 
in  procession,  go  blaring  after  them  to  that  grave  over  which  should 
be  inscribed  the  text  of  Scripture,  "  The  name  of  the  wicked  shall 
rot."  But  in  his  very  wai'd,  and  right  under  the  eaves  of  his  dwell- 
ing, walks  an  honest  and  faithful  policeman,  who  guards  him  and  all 
his  neighbors.  And  when  villainy  grows  bold  and  defiant,  and  this 
faithful  man  is  attacked,  and  falls  wounded,  and  dies,  a  moment's 
shock,  a  morning  paragraph,  is  all  the  honor  that  is  given  to  this 
obscure  hero,  who  did  all  that  man  can  do.  He  gave  his  life  for  the 
peace  of  the  city  ;  and,  dead,  he  is  a  monument  of  honor  to  that  city 
more  than  scores  and  thousands  that  live.  How  much  greater  is  he 
than  the  cocooned  rich  man !  How  much  nobler  is  his  death  than 
the  whole  jrorjreous  uselessness  of  the  selfish  millionaire  ! 

In  this  class  of  noble  martyrs  who  give  their  lives  for  others,  I 
rank,  also,  all  those  gentle  nurses  who  wear  out  in  sick-rooms,  watch- 
ing the  suffering,  and  undermining  their  own  health,  for  the  sake  of 
children,  of  brothers,  of  sisters,  of  companions,  of  parents.  They 
exemplify  the  truth  which  is  symbolized  by  that  bird  mythical 
which  plucks  feathers  from  its  own  breast  to  make  the  nest  soft  for 
its  young. 


DUTY  OF   USING   ONE'S  LIFE  FOB    OTHERS,  5 

And  what  shall  I  say  of  all  those  who  have  followed  armies ;  who 
have  buffeted  storms ;  who  have  ventured  into  the  infernal  edge  of 
battle  ;  who  have  toiled  night  and  day  in  military  hospitals — those 
faithful  surgeons  who,  while  others  smote  to  destroy,  cut  only  to 
make  alive  ;  who  bore  the  heat  and  burden  of  campaigning,  the  perils 
of  climate  and  of  battle,  and  finally  fell,  willing  to  die,  but  not  will- 
ing to  relinquish  their  humane  and  noble  devotion  to  the  suffering  ? 

And  what  shall  I  say  of  heroic  chaplains  who,  in  the  leisure  of 
the  camp,  are  instructors  and  servants  of  all,  and  who,  like  the  noble 
Butler  of  N'ew-Jersey,  in  battle,  kept  up  with  the  line  of  fire,  draw- 
ing out  the  wounded  from  among  the  dead,  until  he,  too,  fell  dead, 
pierced  to  the  heart  ? 

And  how  shall  I  worthily  enough  speak  of  those  angel  bands  of 
women  who  gave  themselves,  and  in  scores  of  instances  gave  their 
lives,  to  the  unwearied  performance  of  the  duties  of  humanity  ? 
They  counted  not  their  lives  dear  unto  them.  They  offered  up 
their  souls  unto  God,  in  hospitals,  in  fields,  far  from  home,  and 
among  strangers,  that  they  might  be  joined  to  their  Lord  in  giving 
their  lives  for  others. 

Among  the  poor  and  lowly,  among  servants  and  humble  laborers, 
how  many  have  given  their  lives  in  affectionate  fidelity  to  others ! 
In  the  noise  of  the  great  grinding  world  their  name  and  acts  are  not 
heard ;  but  they  are  all  marked  in  heaven.  Not  one  in  all  the  annals 
of  time,  nor  in  all  the  races  of  men,  has  ever  given  life  for  others 
willingly,  that  God  did  not  mark  and  register  and  remember. 

While,  then,  it  is  possible,  literally,  to  give  our  life  for  others,  and 
while  we  may  sometimes  be  called  in  the  performance  of  our  duty  to 
do  it,  so  that  we  shall  not  say  that  dying  for  others  is  antiquated ; 
yet,  in  the  main,  if  we  are  to  follow  our  Lord,  and  to  givd  our  lives 
for  others,  it  must  be  by  the  use  which  we  make  of  those  lives. 

Now,  he  who  devotes  the  active  hours  of  his  life  to  those  spheres 
to  which  Providence  calls  men,  is  really  giving  himself  for  others. 
It  is  not  necessary  that  a  man  should  go  apart  from  life  in  order  to 
do  the  work  of  piety.  Piety  is  the  right  performance  of  a  common 
duty,  as  well  as  the  experience  of  a  special  moral  emotion.  Too 
often  men  think  that  religion,  like  music,  is  something  that  belongs 
to  a  depai'tment  which  is  exceptional  and  qitite  outside  of  the  ordinary 
routines  of  life.  We  leave  religion  to  go  to  our  work  and  duty.  We 
forsake  work  and  duty,  at  appropriate  periods  and  pauses,  to  go 
back  to  religion.  But  a  better  conception  of  religion  is,  that  it  is 
the  conduct  of  a  man's  disposition  in  work,  hy  work.  It  is  that 
which  is  inseparable  from  his  identity.  It  is  his  nature,  his  carriage. 
It  is  the  fibre  of  his  feeling,  and  the  sphere  in  which  it  develops 
itself     It  is  not  upon  holydays,  but  upon  common  days  more  than 


6  DUTY   OF   USING    ONE'S  LIFE  FOB   OTHERS.    . 

upon  any  others,  that  it  acts.     For  though  upon  special  days  his  dis-  "■ 
tinctively  moral  feelings  may  flame  up  and  have  more  measure  and 
conspicuity  than  upon  others,  they  arre  not  therefore  his  best  days. 

I  have  noticed  that  the  slender  brook  which  carries  the  mill  is 
more  musical  on  Sunday  than  on  any  other  day  ;  because  the  mill 
stands  still,  and  the  brook,  having  nothing  to  do  with  its  water, 
gurgles  over  the  rocks,  and  flounders  over  the  dam,  and  makes  a 
thousand  times  more  merry  noise  than  on  any  other  day.  But  Mon- 
day comes,  and  the  gates  are  hoisted,  and  the  mill  runs,  and  the  brook 
is  not  so  musical ;  but  the  mill  is  more  so.  The  mill  did  nothing  on 
Sunday ;  and  the  brook  is  doing  more  on  Monday  than  it  did  on  Sun- 
day. It  played  on  Sunday,  but  it  works  on  Monday.  And  Christians, 
as  it  were,  play  in  the  spirit,  and  have  a  holy  jollity,  on  Sunday.  It  is 
a  holiday  for  them.  Nor  would  I  undervalue  their  experience  or 
joy.  But  I  say  that  they  are  not  so  busy  when  they  sing  and  pray  and 
rejoice  in  the  sanctuary,  as  when,  by  the  power  of  some  moral  emo- 
tion, they  are  combating  temptation,  and  resisting  pride,  and  over- 
coming selfishness,  and  building  again  the  kingdoms  of  this  world 
with  the  holy  stones  of  the  New  Jerusalem.  Then,  when  piety 
costs  ;  then,  when  it  means  bearing,  heroism,  and  achievement ;  not 
then  when  it  seeks  joy,  but  when  it  seeks  battle — then  men  are  near- 
est to  God,  and  most  like  Christ.  When  a  man  stands  upon  the 
deck,  and  at  the  bench,  and  by  the  forge,  and  in  the  farrow,  and  in 
the  colliery — then,  if  ever,  if  he  has  a  life  to  live  of  true  piety,  is  the 
time  ;  and  there,  at  the  post  of  duty,  is  the  place.  For,  all  the  hum- 
blest avocations  and  employments  are  so  arranged  that,  while  they 
serve  to  support  the  actor,  they  do  a  hundred  times  as  much  for  the 
community  as  they  do  for  him  that  follows  them.  It  is  unfortunate 
that  our  habits  of  thought  have  not  been  more  Christianized,  and 
that  our  phrase  has  not  been  converted,  as  well  as  the  people  who 
use  it.  For,  we  are  accustomed  to  speak  of  trades,  various  manual 
employments,  and  professions,  in  their  lowest  relations.  If  we  speak 
of  the  carpenter's  business,  it  is  either  as  a  toil  or  as  a  support. 
It  is  a  toil,  and  it  is  a  support ;  and  these  in  their  relative  positions 
are  not  unworthy  of  consideration  ;  but  that  is  not  the  whole,  nor  the 
lialf— that  is  the  least  part.  What  a  man  himself  derives  from  the 
cunning  craft  that  he  pursues,  is  not  half  so  important,  as  it  is  not 
half  so  much,  as  what  he  gives  by  it. 

The  carpenter  that  builds  a  mansion,  rearing  it  through  the  whole 
season,  receives  a  few  thousand  dollars,  and  is  supposed  to  be  well 
paid,  and  is  himself  satisfied.  And  men  seem  to  think  that  is 
the  whole  that  ho  has  done.  He  has  worked  diligently  during  the 
summer,  he  has  earned  his  thousands  to  support  his  family;  and  per- 
haps a  thousand  or  two  is  laid  up  for  the  time  to  come.      And  what 


BUTT  OF    USING    ONE'S  LIFE  FOR    OTHERS.  7 

has  he  done  ?  Earned  his  money  ?  Yes,  he  has  earned  his  money ; 
but  he  has  built  a  mansion  in  which  a  family  shall  be  sheltered 
through  a  hundred  years.  He  has  built  a  temple  where  the  old 
patriarch  shall  oifer  sacrifice  and  incense  of  devotion  in  the  presence 
of  coming  generations  many.  He  has  built  the  halls  where  social  joy 
shall  be.  Here  is  the  room  that  grief  shall  fill  with  funeral ;  and  here 
is  the  room  that  joy  shall  fill  with  wedding.  Here  is  the  room  where 
children  shall  sport  through  the  livelong  year.  Here  are  the 
threads  of  life,  dark  or  light,  gold  and  silver  or  black,  to  be  wrought 
out  and  woven  together.  And  here,  when  he  is  dead,  and  his  children 
die,  his  work  stands,  and  is  the  home  of  peace  and  comfort  and  piety 
— the  very  temple  of  God.  He  built  one,  and  ten,  and  twenty,  and 
it  may  be  a  hundred  of  such  dwellings  ;  and  he  got  what  ?  A  few 
pitiful  thousands  of  dollars.  And  he  gave  what  ?  He  gave  to  the 
community  benefits,  opportunities,  instruments,  influences.  In  his 
skill,  in  his  mind,  or  incarnated  in  timber  or  in  metal,  he  gave  to  the 
community  priceless  gifts.  And  are  we  to  take  these  precious  in- 
wardnesses of  men  which  are  imbedded  in  their  labor,  and  to  think 
of  them  only  in  the  poor,  pitiful  light  of  pelf,  of  what  they  brought 
back  to  the  pocket,  and  not  of  what,  through  them,  the  man  brought 
back  to  the  community  ? 

Why,  that  old  smith,  rugged  himself,  almost,  as  the  storms  he 
prepares  to  combat,  hammers  morning  and  night  upon  the  links  that 
form  the  chain  which  clasps  the  cable.  It  may  be,  as  in  the  olden 
time,  yet  more  ponderously,  that  he  in  the  stithy  works  on  the  huge 
shank  of  the  anchor  ;  and  when  his  summer's  work  or  winter's  toil  is 
done,  and  it  is  sold  for  the  ship,  men  ask  him,  "  What  got  you  for 
your  labor  ?"  Nobody  ever  thinks  of  saying  to  him,  "  You  have 
worked  a  whole  winter  to  make  a  gift;  what  have  you  given  to  the 
community  ?"  What  has  he  given  ?  It  may  not  be  known  for  a  long 
time.  On  voyage  after  voyage  the  ship  goes,  and  there  lies  his  gift, 
useless  and  unsuspected.  Some  day,  the  ship  bears  back  a  thousand 
precious  souls,  among  them  mothers  whose  fl.owers  lie  at  home  wait- 
ing for  them  to  return;  fathers,  who  can  not  be  spared  from  tlie 
neighborhood ;  public  men  of  signal  service — the  very  salt  of  the 
times  in  which  they  live ;  heroes  and  patriots  many.  Then  it  is  that  the 
storm  beats  down  and  seeks  to  whelm  them  all  in  the  sea,  and  to 
whelm  the  community  in  mourning.  Then  it  is  that,  when  ever}^  other 
effort  has  been  made  in  vain,  the  anchor  is  thrown  out.  And  now 
the  storm  rages  with  increased  violence,  as  if  it  were  yet  more  angry 
because  it  is  lliwarted.  But  the  good  blacksmith's  work  holds'. 
Sinking  far  out  of  sight,  and  grappling  the  foundations  of  the  earth,  it 
will  not  let  go.  And  we,  for  the  first  time,  see  the  value  of  his  gift. 
Every  link  has  been  projicrly  welded ;  and,  though  the  wind  howls, 


8  DUTY  OF    USING    ONE'S  LIFE  FOR    OTHERS 

and  the  sea  wages  a  fierce  and  desperate  battle,  and  the  strain  is 
tremendous,  tbe  storm  passes  by,  and  there  rides  the  gallant  ship 
safe !  There  is  what  he  gave.  He  gave  a  chain,  an  anchor,  to  the 
community,  and  salvation  to  the  hundreds  on  board  the  ship,  and  joy 
and  peace  where  the  tidings  come  of  souls  saved  from  the  remorseless 
deep.  And  yet,  how  many  men  think  simply  that  he  made  an  anchor, 
and  got  so  many  hundred  dollars  for  it !  He  made  an  anchor,  and 
saved  a  hundred  lives. 

So  men  that  fill  our  houses  with  conveniences,  with  comforts,  with 
various  instruments  by  which  our  time  is  redeemed  to  higher  and 
nobler  uses ;  men  that  make  implements — they  give  my  brain  a  gift. 
He  that  makes  a  machine,  emancijiates  me.  For  if  matter  can  not  be 
made  to  toil  upon  matter,  then  men  must  toil  upon  it.  And  just  in 
proportion  as  you  make  slaves^the  only  slaves  that  are  fit  for  this 
world — machine  slaves — just  in  that  proportion  you  redeem  the  mind 
to  greater  leisure,  and  to  a  larger  sphere  for  the  moral  functions  of 
manhood.  And  all  men  that  labor  thus  productively  and  skillfully 
are  real  benefactors  of  the  community.  And  why  do  not  they  know 
it  ?  Why  do  not  they  feel  the  honor  ?  Why  do  not  men  preach  it 
to  them  ?  Why  are  they  not  told  that  they  should  not  look  upon  the 
mere  self-side  of  their  avocations  ?  The  merchant,  the  mechanic,  the 
day-laborer,  bearing  endless  benefactions  to  the  community — why  do 
not  they  regard  their  labors  in  a  higher  light  ?  Why  do  they  not  feel 
that  they  are  contributing  to  the  welfare  of  their  fellow-men,  as  well 
as  to  their  own  welfare,  and  that  so  they  are  following  Christ  ?  If 
they  only  did  their  life-work  on  purpose  to  follow  Christ,  if  they 
only  did  it  because  it  was  following  Christ,  if  they  only  joyed  in  fol- 
lowing him,  and  if  the  consciousness  of  following  him  was  their  re- 
ward, then  they  would  rise  to  the  dignity  of  some  remote  imitation 
of  the  Master ;  whereas,  they  are  without  the  reward,  even  though 
they  do  the  same  thing,  if  they  do  it  only  for  selfish,  pitiful  pelf. 

Let  every  man,  then,  follow  the  occupation  that  God  has  given 
him,  and  understand  that  in  following  it  he  is  rendering  a  service  to 
his  fellow-men ;  and  let  him  feel,  "  I  am  honored  in  these  appointed 
channels  of  God's  providence,  that  I  am  permitted  to  give  my  life  for 
my  fellow-men — that  is,  to  live  it  for  them." 

The  accumulations  of  industry,  of  skill,  and  of  enterprise  ;  the 
power  which  comes  from  them,  and  the  power  which  comes  from 
study,  from  experience,  and  from  refinement,  are  all  of  them  but  so 
much  which  men  have  the  means  of  giving  for  their  fellow-men.  Too 
often,  now,  as  men  grow  wiser,  they  despise  the  vulgar  and  the  igno- 
rant. As  men  grow  richer,  they  can  not  any  longer  consort  with  com- 
mon people.  As  men  gi-ow  finer,  the  vulgarity  and  the  coarseness  of 
the  rude  is  insufierable  to  their  morbid  refinement.     And  as  men  be- 


DUTY  OF  USma  OlfB'S  LIFE  FOR  OTHERS.  9 

come  better,  it  is  said — I  say  loorse — they  go  further  and  further 
from  the  example  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  brought  with  hira 
the  glory  of  that  nature  Avhich  he  could  not  relinquish :  "  Who," 
though  lie  "  thought  it  not  robbery  to  be  equal  with  God,"  '*  made 
himself  of  no  reputation,  and  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a  servant, 
and  humbled  himself,  and  became  obedient  unto  death,  even  the 
death  of  the  cross  :  wherefore  God  hath  highly  exalted  hira." 

Now,  in  proportion  as  you  are  noble,  in  proportion  as  God  has 
made  you  wiser  and  stronger  than  any  body  else,  in  proportion  as 
study  and  opportunity  have  refined  you  and  cultured  you — in  that 
proportion  God  requires  that  you  should  give  the  benefit  of  your 
gifts  and  attainments  to  the  whole  community.  You  can  not  follow 
Christ  except  you  do  it.  Do  I  not  see  men  who  think  they  follow 
Christ,  but  who  manifest  none  of  the  spirit  of  Christ?  "What  is  the 
nature  of  that  religion  wliich  satisfies  itself  with  empty  compliances 
of  the  sanctuary  ?  Do  I  not  see  many  men  who  honor  the  Sabbath, 
but  care  nothing  for  those  people  for  whom  the  Sabbath  was  made  ? 
Many  men  honor  the  sanctuary,  they  really  love  prayer,  they  really 
glow  under  the  hymn,  they  delight  in  taking  official  j^art  in  the  ser- 
vices and  duties  of  religion ;  nevertheless,  so  soon  as  they  have  per- 
formed their  own  duty  to  God,  what  becomes  of  their  life  ?  How 
many  there  are  that  began  life  as  the  worm  begins  it,  and  fed  vora- 
ciously until  they  were  full,  and  then  silently  sloughed  their  worm- 
skin,  and  spun  around  about  them  a  silken  house !  They  retired  from 
life.  And  you  shall  find  a  great  many  such  Christian  worms,  that 
have  had  the  benefit  of  the  whole  summer,  and  have  retired  to  some 
out  of  the  way  place,  where,  suspended,  as  it  were,  from  the  limbs 
of  trees,  in  these  silk-wound  cocoons  the  chrysalis  waits  for  the  next 
summer. 

The  chrysalis  is  not  a  fool.  There  is  a  next  summer  for  him. 
But  if  a  man  attempts  to  do  the  same  thing;  if  he  feeds  upon  all 
God's  bounties,  and  only  succeeds  in  spinning  out  of  his  own  bowels 
for  himself  a  silken  dwelling,  and  then  wraps  himself  up  in  that, 
there  is  no  next  summer  to  him.  He  will  never  come  to  be  a  butter- 
fly, though  the  chrysalis  will,  and  will  rise  up  in  judgment  against 
him.  He  will  be  damned  !  For  that  which  is  very  well  for  a  bug, 
is  very  poor  for  a  Christian.  And  yet,  how  many  men  there  are  who 
liold  themselves  bound  by  arguments,  and  bound  by  doctrines,  and 
bound  by  churches,  and  bound  by  all  the  various  prescriptive  rights 
which  are  innocent  enough  in  themselves — which,  if  they  do  not  do 
any  good,  do  not  do  much  hurt — how  many  there  are  that  spend 
their  lives  in  the  midst  of  all  the  pleasing  trifles  of  that  vast  museum 
of  curiosities  which  are  labeled  "religious,"  and  think  themselves 
Christians  !     Here  are  all  the  forces  of  the  understanding ;  here  are 


10  DUTY  OF  TISING  ONE'S  LIFE  FOB  OTHERS. 

all  the  populous  thoughts  that  have  heen  trained  to  go  forth  ;  here 
are  all  the  mighty  agencies  and  inspirations  of  the  moral  nature ; 
here  is  the  whole  wealth  of  the  affections  ;  here  is  a  soul  that  ought 
to  stand  as  a  light-house  on  the  dark  promontory,  and  cast  its  beams 
far  out  over  the  troubled  sea,  to  men  that  need  guidance  thereby  ; 
and  yet  how  many  there  are  who  never  think  of  living  for  their  fel 
low-men  !  I  do  not  know  but  they  will  die  martyrs  ;  for  to  be  a  mar- 
tyr requires  a  great  deal  of  obstinacy  as  well  as  grace.  There  have 
been  a  great  many  stuffy  mai-tyrs.  There  have  been  martyrs  outside 
of  the  Christian  religion,  as  well  as  inside  of  it.  It  is  not  very  hard 
for  a  man  to  die,  if  he  is  built  right.  A  great  many  men  would  rather 
die  than  give  up.  I  tell  you,  it  is  not  hard  for  a  man  to  die  for  Christ, 
nor  for  his  faith,  nor  for  his  party,  nor  for  his  side.  It  is  ten  thou- 
sand times  harder  to  live  right  than  to  die  right.  It  is  not  difficult 
for  a  man  to  give  his  life  up  through  the  chamber  of  death.  But  to 
give  your  life  while  you  hold  it,  yes,  and  to  use  it  so  that  it  is  a  per- 
petual benefaction  all  through — that  is  hard,  and  that  is  the  special 
Christian  duty.  To  live  in  such  a  way  that,  as  from  the  stars  by 
night  and  from  the  sun  by  day  light  and  guidance  are  issuing,  so 
from  you  shall  proceed  an  influence  that  comforts,  cheers,  instructs, 
and  alleviates  the  troubles  and  sufferings  of  life — this  is  a  true  fol- 
lowing of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

Contrast  with  tliis  idea,  also,  the  life  of  moral  men  M'ho  think 
they  are  good,  and  good  enough,  because  they  simply  avoid  evil.  A 
moral  man,  as  distinguished  from  a  Christian  man,  is  one  who  is  nega- 
tive. A  Christian  is  one  who  is  positive.  A  Christian  is  a  fruit- 
bearer.  A  moral  man  is  a  vine  that  does  not  bear  fruit.  But  then, 
it  bears  everything  else— good  leaves,  a  good,  strong  stem,  a  healthy 
root,  every  thing  that  is  good  and  nice  in  it,  except  the  fruit,  A  Chris- 
tian man  is  one  that  develops  graces  into  positivity.  He  acts  out  of 
himself  and  upon  others.  A  moral  man  is  one  that  simply  defends 
himself  from  the  action  of  evil,  A  moral  man  is  like  an  empty  bot- 
tle, well  corked,  so  that  no  defilement  can  get  into  it;  so  that  it  may 
be  kept  pure  within.  Pure  ?  And  what  is  the  use  of  a  bottle  that 
is  pure,  if  it  is  empty  and  corked  up  ?  A  moral  man,  I  repeat,  is  ne- 
gative. He  does  not  swear,  and  he  does  not  steal,  and  he  does  7iot 
murder,  and  he  does  not  get  drunk,  and  his  whole  life  is  not.  Ilis 
law  is,  "  Thou  shalt  not,''  and,  "  Thou  shalt  not,''  and,  "  Thou  shalt 
not."  He  is  not  all  over,  and  nothing  more !  He  is  not  positive. 
There  is  no  avertness  to  him. 

Stakes  are  very  good ;  but  they  are  better  made  of  dead  wood 
than  of  living.  Moral  men  are  stakes,  put  \\^  for  uses.  There  are 
no  branches  and  there  is  no  shade  to  them.  We  can  draw  lines  of 
deraarkation  by  them;  we  can  do  a  great  many  things  with  them ; 


DUTY  OF  USmO  ONE'S  LIFE  FOB  OTHERS.  11 

but  these  are  lower  uses,  they  are  servile  uses.  Moral  men  are 
good,  they  ai*e  admirable,  and  are  to  be  encouraged ;  not,  however, 
for  these  lower  uses  which  they  serve,  but  in  the  hope  that  by  and 
by,  by  pruning,  by  teaching,  and  by  inspiration,  they  may  be  so 
trained  tliat  they  shall  bear  fruit.  He  that  lives  through  his 
whole  life,  concentrating  upon  himself  all  the  bounties  of  God,  and 
gives  nothing  to  his  fellow-men,  is  not  a  Christian,  though  he  may 
be  a  very  moral  man. 

Lastly,  consider  the  wickedness  of  what  seldom  passes  for  a  wicked 
life.  I  am  not  speaking  of  a  life  of  vice  and  of  crime,  which  is  the 
diseased  form  of  all  wickedness — wickedness  carried  to  its  most  mor- 
bid condition.  But  see  how,  all  through  life,  men  of  repute,  men  of 
standing,  men  of  influence,  men  that  are  praised  while  they  live  and 
are  eulogized  when  they  die,  are  men  that  are  given  to  the  lust  of  pride 
and  vanity.  They  live  inordinately  for  themselves.  They  do  not 
actually  do  harm,  it  may  be ;  but  they  are  men  who  are  full  of  am- 
bition all  for  themselves.  They  are  like  the  oak  which  stands  in  the 
night  to  gather  dew  for  itself,  and  then,  if  the  wind  in  the  morning 
shakes  it,  is  willing  to  part  with  the  few  drops  that  it  really  can  not 
hold  on  to ;  and  they  call  themselves  benevolent !  There  are  men 
that  spread  abroad  gigantic  arms,  ajid  gather  the  wealth  of  heaven 
— whatever  God's  bounty  can  give  them — meaning  it  all  for  them- 
selves ;  and  a  few  accidental  drops  of  kindness  here  and  there  give 
them  some  claim  to  generosity  and  benevolence.  But  where  are  the 
channels  into  which  their  life  flows  ?  Where  are  the  uses  that  tliese 
great  forces,  concentring  in  them,  subserve?  They  live  for  pride, 
for  vanity — the  meanest  of  all  feelings  when  it  is  in  excess — and 
for  self  They  live  for  every  thing  but  others.  Now  and  then  a 
stray  benefaction  alleviates  their  conscience ;  now  and  then  a  douceur, 
as  it  were,  they  give  to  the  Lord,  that  he  may  not  bring  accusation 
against  them:  but  the  vast  mine  which  they  work  from  day  to  day; 
the  wide-sweeping  net  by  which  they  drag  the  depths  of  the  won- 
drous ocean  ;  the  vast  harvest-field  which  they  reap — these  are  all  for 
self.  Revengeful,  jealous,  full  of  rivalries  and  competitions,  and  full 
of  injuries  to  other  men  in  thought  or  in  deed,  or  in  both,  tliey  live 
through  life,  and  are  at  death  mourned  over  as  being  men  that  had 
some  flaws,  but  that,  after  all,  were  very  excellent  men. 

Ah !  when  a  man  is  dead,  and  you  are  sure  that  he  is  out  of  the 
way,  you  can  afford  to  praise  him.  It  is  when  men  are  living  that  we 
are  not  so  charitable  about  it.  I  have  not  the  least  particle  of  pre- 
judice against  the  thistles  that  were  on  my  place  last  year.  It  is 
those  that  are  there  now  that  I  do  not  like.  The  nettles  that  I 
remember  when  I  was  a  boy  I  am  very  charitable  toward  ;  but  the 
nettles  that  were  in  my  hands  last  week  I  do  not  feel  so  about.    When 


12  BUTT  OF  USING  ONE'S  LIFE  FOB  OTHERS 

I  look  at  the  stramonium  that  is  swelling  on  the  bloated  ground, 
when  I  look  at  the  thistles  and  the  various  noisome  pestilent  weeds 
that  spring  up  from  the  dunghill,  and  see  how  rank  they  are,  filling 
the  air  with  vaj)or,  and  how  they  subsist  on  that  which  belongs  to 
nutritious  plants,  how  I  abhor  them ! 

There  is  many  a  man  in  Raymond  Street  jail  who  is  better  than 
many  a  man  that  goes  honored  and  praised  in  your  midst ;  and  God 
has  more  complacency  in  the  former  than  in  the  latter.  He  has  not 
much  in  the  former ;  but  he  has  none  at  all  in  the  latter. 

A  bloated,  self-indulgent  man,  a  man  who  keeps  within  the  bounds  of 
the  law  only  because  there  is  safety,  because  there  he  may  more 
abundantly  indulge  his  selfishness ;  the  obese,  prospered  man,  that 
lives  for  his  lower  nature,  and  yet  is  counted  not  far  from  the  kingdom 
of  heaven — what  shall  we  say  of  such  men,  and  of  lives  such  as  theirs  ? 

You  need  not  be  a  criminal,  you  need  not  be  a  very  wicked  man, 
you  may  neither  riot  nor  debauch,  you  may  neither  steal  nor  gam- 
ble; and  yet,  you  may  live  stained,  leprous,  spotted,  and  hideous 
before  God,  before  all  holy  angels,  and  before  right-thinking  men. 
Your  life  may  be  a  vast  activity ;  and  yet,  it  may  be  a  huge  vortex 
where  every  thing  tends  to  that  centre — self.  And  that  is  to  be 
wicked  enough.  You  do  not  need  to  be  any  wickeder.  And  yet, 
you  may  be  as  wicked  as  that,  and  still  be  very  respectable  in  the 
eyes  of  men. 

My  dear  Christian  brethren,  this  question  comes  home  very  nearly 
to  us.  What  we  are  doing  for  others,  is  to  measure  our  following  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ ;  and  not  what  we  are  doing  of  necessity,  but 
what  we  are  doing  on  purpose,  what  we  are  doing  consciously,  what 
we  are  striving  to  do,  what  we  put  our  heart  and  soul  into. 

If  there  be  any  of  you,  then,  that  desire  to  follow  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  to  give  yourselves  for  others,  as  he  gave  himself  for  our 
comfort,  living  or  dying  ye  are  the  Lord's — ^living  of  dying,  and  the 
one  as  much  as  the  other. 

And  now,  my  sermon  is  done.  "We  are  accustomed,  on  the  first 
Sunday  after  my  return  from  the  summer  vacation,  to  hold  a  Commu- 
nion— fit  and  beautiful  service  for  our  reunion ;  and  we  shall  to-day 
sit  down  together  as  a  Christian  family  to  break  the  bread  that  signi- 
fies the  broken  body  of  our  Lord,  and  to  take  the  wine  that  signifies 
his  blood  which  was  shed  for  us.  And  can  you  do  it  without  making 
a  more  solemn  and  earnest  consecration  of  yourselves  to  his  life  and 
example  than  you  have  made  before  ?  Li  that  consecration  will  you 
not,  purposely,  from  this  hour,  endeavor  so  to  carry  all  that  Avhich 
God  gave  you  in  the  royal  making  of  your  nature,  that  you  shall  be 
a  light,  a  staff,  a  fortress,  and  a  refuge;  that  you  shall  be  a  cloud  laden 
with  rain,  a  summer  of  bounty  itunieasurable,  and  constant  to  the 
very  end,  to  those  that  are  around  about  you  ? 


n. 

THE   GOD   OF  COMFORT. 


THE    GOD    OF    COMFOET. 

SUNDAY  MORNING,  SEPTEMBER  27,  1868. 


"  Blessed  be  God,  even  tlie  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  the  Father  of 
mercies,  and  the  God  of  all  comfort ;  who  comforteth  us  in  all  our  tribulation, 
that  we  may  be  able  to  comfort  them  wliich  are  in  any  trouble  by  the  comfort 
wherewith  we  ourselves  are  comforted  of  God," — 3  Con.  i.  3,  4. 


I  CALL  the  "New  Testament  the  Book  of  Joy.  There  is  not  in  the 
world  a  book  which  is  pervaded  with  such  a  spirit  of  exhilaration.. 
Nowhere  does  it  jiour  forth  a  melancholy  strain.  Often  pathetic,  it 
is  never  gloomy.  Full  of  sorrows,  it  is  full  of  victory  over  sorrow. 
In  all  the  round  of  literature,  there  is  not  another  book  that  can  cast 
such  cheer  and  insi^iresuch  hoiDC.  Yet  it  eschews  humor,  and  fore- 
goes wit.  It  is  intensely  earnest,  and  yet  full  of  quiet.  It  is  pro- 
foundly solemn,  and  yet  there  is  not  a  strain  of  morbid  feeling  in  it. 

Some  books  have  recognized  the  wretchedness  of  man's  condition. 
on  earth,  and  in  some  sense  have  produced  exhilaration;  but  it  has 
been  rather  by  amusing  their  readers.  They  have  turned  life  into  a 
comedy.  They  have  held  up  men's  weakness  to  mirth.  They  have 
turned  men's  passions  to  ridicule,  sharply  puncturing  their  folly  by 
wit.  Thus  they  have  undervalued  human  nature.  They  have  re- 
lieved men's  sorrowful  thoughts  of  human  life  by  teaching  them  sub- 
stantially to  despise  life  and  its  duties.  They  have  kept  down  the 
nobler  sentiments,  and  worked  up  the  jollity  of  men's  lower  nature, 
and  sought  to  redeem  them  from  suffering  by  taking  out  all  earnest- 
ness, all  faith,  all  urgent  convictions. 

Not  so  the  Christian  Scriptures.  They  never  jest;  they  never 
ridicule ;  they  never  deal  in  any  wise  in  comic  scenes.  They  dis- 
dain, in  short,  all  those  methods  by  which  other  Avritings  have  in- 
spired cheer;  and  yet,  by  a  method  of  their  own,  they  produce  in  all 
who  accept  them  a  reasonable  sympathy,  elevation  of  mind,  high 
hope,  and  cheerful  resignation. 

Other  writers  crild  the  nature  of  man  with  the  licrht  of  an  indis- 


14  THE   GOD    OF  COMFORT. 

criminating  benevolence.  They  tell  us,  In  substance,  that  wicked- 
ness is  not  so  wicked  as  we  think ;  that  we  put  too  much  emphasis 
on  conduct,  and  attach  too  much  importance  to  events;  that  we 
must  look  ujDon  men  more  as  if  they  were  clouds  coming  and  going 
in  the  sky,  or  like  leaves  which  flutter,  without  self-help,  as  the  wind 
determines ;  and  that  good  and  evil  should  not  afflict  and  agitate  us, 
since  they  are  accidents,  like  the  bark  of  trees,  smooth  or  rough,  by 
some  occult  law,  rather  than  by  any  intelligent  purpose  of  their 
own;  and  that  we  should  be  charitable.  Thus  men  are  taught  to 
be  charitable  at  the  expense  of  moral  convictions,  and  of  sensibility 
to  that  which  is  right  or  Avrong. 

And  so  these  writers  relieve  our  sj)irits  of  melancholy  by  flatten- 
ing all  of  life  to  a  tame  level — lowering  the  dignity  of  human  nature 
by  belittling  man's  destiny.  If  life  is  nothing,  and  means  nothing  ; 
if  it  comes  from  nothing,  and  returns  to  nothing,  why  should  men 
take  events  too  burdensomely  ?  why  not  say,  "  Let  us  eat  and  drink, 
for  to-morrow  we  die"  ? 

But  the  New  Testament  unfolds  the  nature  of  man  in  the  darkest 
colors.  It  lifts  over  his  head  a  cloud  full  of  bolts,  liable  at  any  mo- 
ment to  fall  destructively.  It  creates  him  a  responsible  agent ;  and, 
rolling  back  the  horizon-curtains,  reveals  the  everlasting  future,  on 
which,  as  upon  a  daguerrean  plate,  this  life  is  picturing  itself.  It 
recites  the  evils  of  the  human  heart,  drawing  in  lurid  colors  the 
revel  of  appetites ;  in  sharp  lines  sketching  the  features  of  the  human 
passions.  It  recites  the  Avicked  deeds  which  pride  and  vanity  and 
selfishness  have  evermore  produced  in  mankind.  It  paints  no  para- 
dise of  innocent  sufierers.  It  sweeps  a  circle  around  a  guilty  race, 
lost  in  trespasses  and  sins,  and  so  given  over  to  them  that  all 
strength  for  recovery  is  gone  ;  and  Death,  universal  and  final,  towers 
and  glooms  over  the  race,  like  a  black  storm  that  will  soon  burst 
forth,  unless  some  kind  wind  arises  to  bear  it  back,  and  sweep  it  out 
of  the  hemisphere. 

Strange  as  it  is  in  statement,  it  is  while  dealing  with  such  a 
scene  that  the  New  Testament  writers  sufi'use  their  compositions 
with  a  transcendent  joy;  and  not  once,  nor  twice,  but  always,  and 
all  the  way  through,  they  flash  with  radiant  hope  and  cheer. 
This  is  without  a  parallel.  It  puts  it,  as  a  marvel  in  literature, 
that  the  most  profound  conceptions  of  the  sin  and  guilt  of  mankind, 
arraignments  and  condemnations  of  conduct  and  character  the 
most  relentless,  and  denunciations  and  prophecies  of  the  future 
fate  of  evil-doers  the  most  fearful,  are  yet  the  subject-matters  of 
a  sacred  literature  more  natural  and  wholesome,  more  cheerful  and 
hopeful,  more  invigorating  and  comforting,  than  any  that  has  ever 
existed.     There  is  not  a  morbid  line  in  the  New  Testament. 


TEE  GOD    OF  COMFORT.  15 

K  one  would  contrast  the  writers  who  have  most  severely  dealt 
with  human  weaknesses,  let  him  read  Rabelais,  if  he  can,  holding 
his  nose,  the  while,  as  he  Avalks  through  his  iiastiness ;  let  him  read 
the  lurid  lines  and  heartless  sneers  of  that  demoniac  genius,  Byron, 
or  go  back  to  the  biting  ugliness  of  Dean  Swift ;  and  then  let  him 
listen  to  the  wide  and  various  representations  of  human  wickedness 
in  the  New  Testament,  simple,  earnest,  truthful,  beginning  Avith 
Christ's  lament  over  Jerusalem,  which  is  the  one  key-note  of  the 
whole  lore  and  sj^mphony  of  the  wickedness  of  man,  as  represented 
in  the  New  Testament  literature. 

What  is  the  source  of  this  strange  cheer  overhanging  so  strange 
a  subject  ?  What  is  the  source  of  that  joy  which  glances  from  every 
argument,  from  every  line  almost,  while  treating  of  such  tremendous 
realities  of  sadness  ?  How  comes  it  that  the  sacred  writers  are  so 
inspiriting  ?  As  birds  fly  easier  against  the  wind,  if  it  be  not  too 
strong,  than  in  a  calm,  does  joy,  too,  rise  more  easily  against  the 
breath  of  this  world's  great  sorrows  ?    How  is  it  ? 

The  fountain  and  unfailing  source  of  this  sober  exhilaration  was 
found  in  the  divine  nature,  as  it  had  been  revealed  to  the  apostles. 
Our  text  is  an  admirable  expression  of  this  representation  of  the 
divine  nature.  And  I  will  attempt  so  to  open  this  passage  as  to  give 
some  insight  into  those  experiences,  both  of  sorrow  and  of  consolation, 
which  have  made  the  apostles  the  leaders  of  men  for  so  many  ages. 

God  is  here  styled  the  Father  of  mercies^  mid  the  God  of  all 
comfort.  We  are  not  to  take  our  conceptions  of  God  from  human 
systems  ;  for  these  systems  have  been  built  up  out  of  selections  from 
the  Word  of  God.  But  God's  word  is  a  vast  forest ;  and  as  a  man 
can  build,  out  of  the  timber  that  is  growing  in  the  forest,  a  hut,  or  a 
common  mansion,  or  a  palatial  residence,  so  out  of  the  Word  of  God 
man  can  build  a  poor  theology,  or  a  rich  theology,  or  a  glorious  one, 
according  as  he  is  skillful  in  his  selections. 

Men  had  heard  of  God  who  created  all  things,  who  governed  all 
things,  who  weighed  and  measured  all  human  thoughts  and  feelings, 
and  stamped  with  ineffaceable  lines  the  moral  character  of  the  race. 
This  magisterial  and  juridical  Deity,  revealed  to  men  through  the 
types  of  civil  government,  was  powerful  to  incite  fear  and  to  restrain 
from  evil.  This  vision  of  God  must  always  remain,  having  certain 
purposes,  and  having  in  it  the  office  of  representing  certain  truths  re- 
specting the  divine  nature.  But  this  view  does  not  express  God. 
To  represent  a  being  as  perfectly  holy,  and  as  sitting  in  the  circle  of 
holiness,  holding  the  race  to  absolute  purity,  almost  without  sympa- 
thy, except  that  which  is  doled  out  on  certain  conditions — that  is  not 
to  represent  God,  though  it  is  to  represent  something  about  God. 

Men,  too,  had  heard  of  a  God  perfect  in  holiness.  Their  thoughts 


IQ  THE   GOD    OF  COMFORT. 

had  ranged  until  weary  through  that  vast  circle  inhabited  by  the 
ideal  of  j^erfect  justice  and  trutli. 

It  was  the  latest  disclosure  of  the  divine  nature  that,  within  that 
august  power  which  had  been  revealed,  and  beating  like  a  heart 
within  tliat  perfect  holiness,  there  was  a  nature  of  exquisite  sympa- 
thy and  tenderness;  that  the  energies  of  that  Almighty  Being 
were  exerted  in  the  service  of  mercy  and  kindness ;  that  the  direc- 
tion of  God's  nature  was  toward  love ;  and  that,  although  alterna- 
tively there  were  justice  and  judgment,  yet  they  Avere  but  alterna- 
tive ;  while  the  length  and  breadth,  the  height  and  depth  of  God 
was  in  the  sphere  of  love — potential,  fruitful. 

Consider  what  that  nature  must  be  which  is  here  styled  tJie 
Father  of  mercies.  When  a  man  begets  children,  they  are  in  his  own 
likeness.  God  groups  all  the  mercies  of  the  universe  into  a  great 
family  of  children,  of  which  he  is  the  head.  Mercies  tell  us  what 
God  is.  They  are  his  children.  He  is  the  father  of  them,  in  all  their 
forms,  combinations,  multiplications,  derivations,  offices.  Mercies  in 
their  length  and  breadth,  in  their  multitudes  infinite,  uncountable — 
these  are  God's  offspring,  and  they  represent  their  Father.  Judg- 
ments are  effects  of  God's  power.  Pains  and  penalties  go  forth  from 
his  hand.  Mercies  are  God  himself.  They  are  the  issues  of  his  heart. 
If  he  rears  up  a  scheme  of  discipline  and  education  which  requires 
and  justifies  the  apj^lication  of  pains  and  penalties  for  special  purpo- 
ses, the  God  that  stands  behind  all  special  systems  and  all  special 
administrations,  in  his  own  interior  nature  pronounces  himself  the 
Father  of  mercies,  and  the  God  of  all  comfort.  Of  mercies  it  is 
said  that  they  are  children.  They  are  part  of  God's  nature.  They 
are  not  what  he  does  so  much  as  what  he  is. 

But  even  more  strongly  is  it  said  that  he  is  the  God  of  all  com- 
fort. By  comfort,  we  mean  those  influences  which  succor  distress ; 
which  soothe  suffering  ;  Avhich  alleviate  grief,  and  convert  the  whole 
experience  of  sorrow  to  gladness. 

Consider  that  God  is  declared,  not  at  times  and  upon  fit  occa- 
sions, to  produce  comfort,  but  that  he  is  the  very  God  of  it.  If  we 
mio-ht  imagine  a  kingdom  wide  and  rich  in  all  the  elements  of  conso- 
lation, where  every  ill  found  its  remedy,  and  every  sorrow  its  cure — a 
celestial  sanitarium,  out  of  Avhich  issued  winds  bearing  health  every- 
whither— then  there,  in  its  own  centre,  and  exalted  to  the  highest 
place,  is  God,  sovereign  and  active  in  comforting.  For  this  he 
thinks ;  for  this  he  plans ;  for  this  he  executes ;  for  this  he  waits ;  for 
this  he  lives. 

Oh  !  what  a  realm  of  sorrow  lies  under  this  kingdom,  Oli !  what 
a  need  there  has  been  in  this  world  that  there  should  be  somebody 
to  comfort.    "The  whole  creation  has  groaned  and  travailed  in  pain 


TEE   GOD    OF  COMFORl.  17 

until  now."  Men  have  been  born,  it  would  seem,  that  they  might  bo 
sufFerers.  Nations  have  been  wrapped  in  darkness.  Tribulation  has 
come  like  the  sheeted  doom  of  storms,  and  swept  whole  continents. 
Ages  have  been  stained  with  blood.  Tears  have  been  so  abundant 
that  they  have  been  too  cheap  to  count.  Weeping  has  had  more 
work  in  this  world  than  laughing.  Trouble  has  ruled  more  than  joy. 
Even  yet,  lai"ge-built,  and  high  advanced  in  the  causes  of  a  better 
living,  and  in  the  very  midst  of  civilization,  men,  if  you  read  their 
title,  by  which  we  see  what  sign  experience  has  hung  out  upon  their 
face,  are  scarcely  creatures  of  joy,  but  more  of  care  and  trouble  and 
sorrow.  Every  household,  every  heart,  in  its  turn,  is  pierced.  Men 
go  lonely,  yearning,  longing,  unsatisfied.  They  are  bereaved.  They 
are  filled  with  shocks  of  calamities.  They  are  overturned.  All  their 
life  is  at  times  darkened.  They  are  subverted.  In  midday,  there 
walk  ten  thousand  men  in  these  cities,  that  say,  "  Our  life  is  done. 
We  have  sown  to  the  wind,  and  reaped  the  wliirlwind."  There  are 
thousands  of  dying  children,  and  thousands  of  mothers  that  would 
die.  There  arc  armies  of  men  beguiling  their  leisure  by  destroying 
armies  of  men.  There  are  nations  organized  so  as  to  suppress  man- 
hood. The  very  laws  of  nature  are  employed  as  forces  to  curtail 
men's  conveniences  by  impoverishing  them.  Commerce  and  manu- 
facturing, and  work  itself,  man's  best  friend — these  are  putting  on 
bands  and  gyves.  The  city  makes  suffering,  and  the  town  makes 
suffering;  and  man  himself  heaps  up  in  himself,  by  his  own  work,  ten 
thousand  sources  of  misery.  And  it  is  true  that  "  the  whole  creation 
groans  and  travails  in  pain."  We  march  like  so  many  soldiers,  but 
march  to  a  requiem,  not  to  a  pean  ;  and  the  sounds  that  fill  the  world 
are  sounds  of  mourning  and  of  sorrow. 

Oh !  what  need  there  is  that  up  out  of  this  darkness  and  trouble 
and  sadness,  out  of  these  calamities,  there  should  be  exalted,  some- 
where, an  image  that  writes  upon  itself,  "  I  am  the  God  of  comfort." 
That  brings  God  riglit  home  to  man's  need.  The  world  would  die  if 
it  had  not  some  hope  of  finding  such  a  God. 

He  penetrates  and  pervades  the  universe  with  his  nature  and 
with  his  disposition.  My  flagging  fiith  has  need  of  some  such 
assurance.  I  have  walked  very  much  in  thought  with  those  old 
philosophers  that  believed  that  there  Avas  a  God,  too,  of  evil,  as  well 
as  of  good  ;  and  I  am  more  willingly  a  disciple,  therefore,  of  that  in- 
spired teaching  which  declares  that  evil  is  not  a  j^ersonage.  It  is  not 
even  an  empire.  Like  the  emery  and  sand  with  which  we  scour  off 
rude  surfaces,  evil  and  trouble  in  this  world  are  but  instruments. 
And  they  are  in  the  hands  of  God.  If  they  bite  with  sharp  attrition, 
it  is  because  we  need  more  scouring.  It  is  because  men's  troubles 
need  ruder  handling  and  chiseling,  that  evils  float  in  the  air,  swim 


7  8  T^J^E   OOD    OF  COMFORT. 

in  the  sea,  and  spring  up  from  out  of  the  ground.  But  all  is  under 
the  control  of  ^/ie  God  of  consolation,  as  it  is  said  elsewhere  ;  the  God 
of  comfort.,  and  the  Father  of  mercies,  as  it  is  said  here.  More  are 
the  tender  thoughts,  the  inspired  potential  actions,  in  God,  than  the 
stars  in  the  heavens.  Innumerable  are  the  sweet  influences  Avhich  he 
sends  down  from  his  realm  above.  More  and  purer  are  his  blessings 
than  the  drops  of  dew  which  night  shakes  down  on  the  flowers  and 
grass.  He  penetrates  and  pervades  the  world  with  more  saving  mer- 
cies than  does  the  sun  with  particles  of  light  and  heat.  He  declares 
that  this  nature  in  himself  is  boundless ;  that  this  heart  of  mercy  is 
inexhaustible  ;  that  this  work  of  comfort  is  endless. 

Listen  to  this  symphony  and  chant  of  the  apostle,  wherewith  he 
prays  that  "  we  might  be  able  to  comprehend  with  all  saints" — 
Stand  back  as  he  builds  the  statue,  glowing  at  every  touch  with 
supernal  brightness !  "  That  we  miglit  be  able  to  comprehend " 
what?  That  wire-drawn,  fine,  finical  character  that  too  often  the- 
ology has  skeletonized ;  that  filmy  and  silky  substance  abstracted 
almost  beyond  the  grasp  of  the  imderstanding,  reduced,  for  the  sake 
of  a  certain  notion  of  perfection,  to  an  abstraction  that  is  absolutely 
unusable  in  practical  life — is  this  God  ?  No.  As  he  builds,  listen  : 
"That  Christ  may  dwell  in  your  hearts  by  faith;  that  ye,  being 
rooted  and  grounded  in  love,  may  be  able  to  comprehend" — Ah! 
old  hoary  student,  do  you  think  because  you  can  read  Hebrew,  and 
Syriac,  and  Arabic,  and  Greek,  and  Latin,  that  you  can  teach  me 
about  God  ?  Ah  !  old  grammarian,  that  comes  fighting  me  on  doc- 
trines, that  marshals  sentences,  with  exegesis,  sharp  both  at  the 
point  and  at  the  edge,  cutting  both  ways,  do  you  think  that  because 
you  are  so  wise  in  construction,  you  can  teach  me  of  God  ?  He  is 
not  found  by  either.  "  That  ye,  being  rooted  and  grounded  in  love  " 
— w^iich  is  the  only  interpreter  of  the  divine  nature — "  may  be  able 
to  comprehend,  with  all  saints,  w^hat  is  the  breadth  " — look  from 
where  the  sun  comes  to  where  he  sets  ;  and  look  again  from  where  he 
sets  to  where  he  comes,  if  you  would  gain  any  measure — "  that  ye 
may  be  able  to  comprehend,  with  all  saints,  what  is  the  breadth,  and 
length,  and  depth,  and  height ;  and  to  know  the  love  of  Christ  which 
passeth  knowledge,  that  ye  might  be  filled  with  all  the  fullness  of 
God." 

This  is  the  true  conception  of  God.  Tliis  is  that  majestic  and 
mighty  Heart,  rich,  glowing,  glorious,  yearning  and  desiring  good, 
and  scattering  it  as  through  the  spheres  he  scatters  light  and  atmo- 
siDhere,  This  is  that  vast,  voluminous  God  that,  when  Paul  looked 
up  out  from  the  cloudy  Avorld,  from  amidst  its  rain-drops,  he  saw 
riding  triumphantly,  and  spreading  His  bow  over  the  storms  which 
beat  and  afflicted  him  in  this  lower  mortal  state.     This  is  the  God 


TEE   GOD    OF  COMFORT.  19 

that  declares  himself  to  be,  iu  this  wicked,  sin-smitten,  ruined 
world,  the  God  of  all  comfort — the  great-breasted  God,  the  great 
mother-God,  into  Avhose  arms  come  those  that  weep,  where  he  com- 
forts them,  even  as  a  mother  comforts  her  child.  And  the  earth 
itself  is  rocked,  as  it  were,  by  that  same  tending,  nursing,  loving 
God,  if  only  its  inhabitants  knew  what  is  the  consolation  that  is 
addressed  to  them. 

This  view  of  Christ  was  the  peculiar  manifestation.  Would  that 
we  could  have  it  again,  as  they  had  it  in  their  time.  For,  when  the 
apostles  lived,  most  of  them  had  seen  him.  Even  Paul — in  some  re- 
spects better — had  seen  him  by  celestial  vision ;  and  he  lived  in  all 
the  fresh  remembrances  of  the  whole  lore  of  Christ's  love,  his  words, 
and  his  actions ;  and  it  is  very  plain  that  Christians,  during  the  first 
hundred  years,  lived  in  the  presence  of  Christ,  as  a  person  near  and 
dear  to  them,  as  if  he  had  been  born  in  their  own  household,  and  had 
gone  out  from  them  as  a  child  or  a  parent  goes.  The  ajjostles  saw 
Christ ;  but  they  did  not  see  or  think  of  him  as  we  do  in  modern 
times.  It  is  difficult  for  me  to  make  you  understand  when  I  say 
that  it  is  right  to  philosophize  in  respect  to  the  nature  of  God,  that 
indeed  it  must  be  done,  and  that  yet  this  philosophy  can  never  take 
hold  of  the  soul  and  satisfy  it.  You  shall  read  all  the  writings  of  the 
apostles,  and  you  shall  not  find  that  once  the  nature  of  God  in  Christ 
Jesus  arose  to  them  as  a  question  of  mental  philosophy.  Yet,  handed 
from  school  to  school,  from  theory  to  theory,  almost  our  whole  con- 
ception of  God  is  one  that  has  been  philosophized.  We  are  ranking 
him ;  we  are  counting  his  attributes ;  we  are  telling  how  much  makes 
God  less  than  that  which  can  not  be  God ;  we  are  declaring  his  func- 
tions ;  we  are  philosophizing,  analyzing,  synthetizing  ;  and  our  Di- 
vinity is  one  that  is  largely  made  up  from  the  stand-point  of  mental 
philosophy.  For  theology  is  nothing  but  mental  philosophy  applied 
to  the  divine  mind  and  the  divine  government.  But  the  apostles 
looked  upon  God  from  a  difierent  point  of  view.  They  saw  him  in 
respect  to  his  practical  relations  to  the  wants  of  the  individual  heart, 
and  the  wants  of  the  world.  They  thought  of  him  in  his  adaptation 
to  the  needs  of  the  human  soul,  and  to  the  world's  need,  and  seemed 
to  say  in  themselves,  "  Here  are  all  the  troubles  of  life ;  here  is  this 
beneficent  Being,  that  carries  with  him  cure."  And  to  their  view  he 
was  God,  because  he  supplied  the  universal  need;  because  he  had 
that  without  which  the  world's  life  would  die  out  of  it.  It  was  this 
practical  adaptation  of  the  divine  nature  to  the  wants  of  the  suffer- 
ing world  that  made  Christ  so  unquestionably  divine.  Tlie  questions 
that  are  still  discussed  in  the  church  respecting  the  divinity  of  Christ 
would  long  since  have  ceased  as  useless,  evaporated  as  worthless,  if 


20  THE   GOD    OF  COMFORT. 

men  had  more  habitually  contemplated  Christ  as  a  life-power,  as  a 
Redeemer  and  a  Saviour. 

The  apostles  held  for  certain  that,  in  spite  of  nature,  organiza^ 
tion,  the  drift  of  things,  kingdoms,  powers,  and  influences,  this  meri. 
dian  mercy,  this  divine  consolation,  would  yet  regulate  the  world. 
The  world  was  not,  therefore,  a  pit  of  hopeless  incurables.  The 
matchless  power  of  God  would  finally  overcome  all  evil,  and  sweep 
it  out  of  the  universe.  And  they  lived  in  the  anticipation  of  victory. 
So,  then,  they  neither  were  so  disgusted  as  many  are  with  the  wrong- 
doing of  men,  nor  were  they  so  hopeless  as  others  are  who  believe 
that  a  world  so  wicked,  banded  and  hereditated  in  Avickedness,  can 
never  be  changed  nor  repaired.  They  looked  up  at  the  power  which 
is  above,  and  then  they  said,  "  There  is  hope  for  the  Avorld.  Men  can 
be  regenerated.  Men  can  be  transformed.  A  new  heaven  there  shall 
yet  be,  and  a  new  earth  in  which  dwells  righteousness."  Therefore 
their  conception  of  the  character  of  God,  and  of  its  relations  to  this 
world,  filled  them  with  a  surprise  of  perpetual  joy,  and  with  the  in- 
spiration of  hope.  This  vision  of  God,  the  Comforter,  and  the  One 
most  merciful,  lifted  them  up.  And  as  the  star  after  the  storm 
guides  the  weary  mariner ;  as  the  sun,  after  being  long  hidden  by 
the  thick  cloud  that  half-shrouded  the  heaven,  gives  him  knowledge 
as  to  where  he  is,  and  cheers  his  hope  again ;  as  he  derives  his  ins2:)i- 
ration,  not  from  the  ocean,  nor  from  the  wind,  nor  from  the  cloud, 
nor  from  the  sail,  nor  from  the  hull,  but  borrows  every  thing  from 
the  heaven  above  him ;  so  did  the  apostles,  and  so  have  the  noble  and 
worthy  followers  of  the  apostles  in  every  day  since,  borrowed  every 
thing  of  joy  and  comfort  from  God.  For  they  are  the  descendants, 
the  lineal  successors,  of  the  apostles,  who  are  like  them  in  heart — 
not  those  who  have  some  sort  of  touch  on  the  shell. 

They  were  inspired,  too,  by  the  example  of  Christ,  to  make  their 
sorrows  so  many  medicines  for  others.  In  other  words,  they  learned 
that  the  business  of  sorrow  was  not  simply  to  be  comforted  ;  that 
the  comfort  which  they  received  was  to  make  itself  the  comforter  of 
others. 

Blessed  he  Gocl^  even  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christy  the 
Father  of  mercies,  and  the  God  of  all  comfort ;  icho  comforteth  us 
in  all  our  tribulation,  that  loe  may  he  able  to  comfort  them  which  are 
in  any  trouhle  hy  the  comfort  lohereiolth  toe  ourselves  are  comforted 
of  God. 

Not  longer  to  expand  this  matter,  let  me  in  application  make  a 
few  points. 

1.  This  world  is  not  an  orb  broke  loose  and  snarled  with  imme- 
dicable evils.  If  we  would  know  what  this  world  is  coming  to,  we 
must  not  look  too  low.     Have  you  never  noticed,  in  summer  days, 


THE   GOD    OF  COMFORT.  21 

when  the  sun  stands  at  the  very  meridian  height,  how  wliite  and 
clear  the  light  is ;  how  the  trees  stand  revealed ;  how  all  things  are 
transparently  clear  ?  But  let  the  sun  sink  and  droop  till  it  shoots 
level  beams  along  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  those  beams  are 
caught  and  choked  up  with  a  thousand  vapors,  with  dust,  with  all 
the  day's  breedings  from  swamp,  and  morass,  and  river,  and  fen,  and 
the  sunlight  grows  thick  and  murky.  We  call  it  roseate,  and  orange, 
and  what  not ;  but  it  is  the  poisoned  light  of  the  sun,  which,  in  its 
own  nature,  is  white  and  pure.  And  so  when  men's  eyes  glance 
along  the  surface  of  the  world,  looking  at  moral  questions,  they  look 
through  the  vapors  which  the  world  itself  has  generated,  and  can 
not  see  clearly.  Therefore  it  is  that  many  men  think  this  world 
is  bound  to  Avickedness,  and  that  all  philanthropic  attempts  are  mere 
efforts  of  weakness  and  inexperience.  There  be  many  men  that  arro- 
gate to  themselves  great  superiority,  and  that  are  proud  of  their  cyni- 
cal wisdom,  who  sit  with  a  kind  of  impudent,  pitying  leer,  looking 
ujjon  men  that  instruct  the  ignorant,  that  clothe  and  feed  the  poor 
and  the  needy,  that  spend — loaste  as  they  say — their  time  in  going 
out  into  the  highways  to  do  good.  "  What  matters  it,"  say  they, 
"  whether  this  great  beast  of  a  world  dies  with  its  hair  licked  one  way 
or  another  ?  What  matters  it,  if  all  the  wombs  of  time  are  generating 
wickedness,  and  if  man  is  born  to  Avickedness,  whether  any  thing  is 
done  for  him  or  not?  You  might  as  Avell  attempt  to  cure  volcanoes 
with  pills,  as  to  attempt  to  cure  the  human  heart  by  any  of  your  poor 
medicaments."  They  say  that  they  despise  such  attempts.  And  yet,  no 
man  Avho  does  not  take  his  inspirations  from  the  ordinary  conceptions 
of  the  nature  of  God,  can  have  right  views  of  human  life.  No  man 
can  be  a  charitable  man  who  does  not  believe  that  liis  fellow-men  are 
depraved.  I  will  not  say  totally  •  for  I  do  not  believe  in  the  doctrine 
of  total  depravity.  They  are  depraved,  and  that  is  enough.  There 
is  very  little  difference  between  enough  and  totally — not  enough  to 
dispute  about.  You  are  wicked  in  every  faculty,  and  you  Avill  keep 
being  wicked  in  every  faculty.  The  salient  play  of  the  understanding 
is  itself  full  of  imperfections,  and  at  times  is  stained  Avith  sin  and 
Avrong.  The  lecherous  imagination  goes  to  and  fro,  a  robber  of 
purity,  throughout  the  universe.  The  moral  sentiments — hoAv  are 
they  pcr2)etually  suborned  to  do  the  work  of  Avickcdness !  How 
are  the  best  affections  Avreathed  around,  oftentimes,  Avith  idols !  Hoav 
are  the  passions  flagrant,  despotic,  oppressive !  Men  are  wicked ; 
and  no  man  can  be  charitable  Avith  men  who  does  not  start  Avith  the 
belief  that  they  are  Avicked  in  all  parts  of  their  nature.  And  then, 
no  man  can  be  charitable  with  men  Avho  docs  not  belie\'e  that  it  is 
the  essential  nature  of  God  to  cure,  and  not  to  condemn ;  that  his 
first  and  latest  thought  is,  "  O  Israel,  thou  hast  destroyed  thyself; 


22  THE   GOD    OF  COMFORT. 

but  in  me  is  thy  remedy."  God  is  himself  a  vast  medicine.  God's 
soul  and  nature  are  the  blood  of  the  universe.  Ask  the  physician 
what  it  is  that  he  trusts  to  throw  out  morbific  influences  from  the 
human  system.  If  there  be  diseased  organs,  what  cures  them?  Do 
you  think  pills  do  the  work  ?  They  do  but  little  except  to  say  to  the 
lazy  organ,  "  Wake  up  and  go  to  work,  and  throw  out  the  enemy 
that  is  preying  upon  you."  What  is  medicine  ?  It  is  merely  a  coaxer. 
Its  business  is  to  say  to  the  part  affected,  "  Lazy  dog  !  wake  up  and 
get  well."  If  a  man  gets  well,  he  cures  himself — often,  thanks  to  the 
doctor;  oftener,  thanks  to  the  nurse  ;  always,  thanks  to  nature.  That 
does  the  work,  if  it  is  done  at  all.  What  is  the  stream  that  carries 
reparation  to  the  wasted  parts,  that  carries  stimulation  to  the  dor- 
mant parts,  that  carries  nutrition  to  the  exhausted  parts  ?  What  is 
it  that  fights  ?     It  is  the  blood. 

And  throughout  the  vast  heaven,  throughout  time  and  the 
universe,  the  blood  of  the  world  comes  from  the  heart  of  God.  The 
mercies  of  the  loving  God  throb  everywhere — above  and  below, 
within  and  without,  endless  in  circuits,  vast  in  distribution,  infinitely 
potential.  It  is  the  heart  of  God  that  carries  restoration,  inspiration, 
aspiration,  and  final  victory.  And  as  long  as  God  lives,  and  is  what 
he  is,  "  the  Father  of  mercies,  and  the  God  of  all  comfort" — so  long 
this  world  is  not  going  to  rack  and  ruin.  And  let  men  despond  as  much 
as  they  please,  let  the  work  seem  to  be  delayed  as  long  as  it  pleases,  let 
men  watch  as  in  the  night  for  the  slow  coming  of  the  sun  of  a  winter 
morning;  nevertheless,  he  that  has  taken  his  observation,  and  has 
based  his  faith  on  the  character  and  nature  of  God,  knows  that 
though  a  thousand  years,  or  cycles  of  thousands  of  years  may  inter- 
vene, in  the  end  there  shall  be  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  in  which 
shall  dwell  righteousness.  The  earth  is  to  stand  uj).  The  earth  is  not 
forever  to  groan.  Methinks  there  is  to  come  a  day  when  God  shall 
sound  the  note  from  the  throne  where  he  is,  and  when  from  afar  off, 
catching  that  key-note  and  theme,  this  old  earth,  so  long  dismal,  and 
rolling,  and  wailing,  as  it  rolls,  the  sad  requiem  of  sin  and  death, 
shall  surprise  the  spheres,  and  fill  all  the  universe  with  that  chanting 
sono-  of  victory,  "  Christ  hath  redeemed  us,  and  he  reigns  in  every 
heart,  and  over  all  the  earth."     The  time  shall  come. 

Work  on  then,  brother !  Work  on,  sister !  Not  a  tear  that  you 
drop  to  wash  away  any  person's  trouble,  not  a  blow  that  you  strike 
in  imitation  of  the  strokes  of  the  Almighty  arm,  shall  be  forgotten. 
And  when  you  stand  in  the  presence  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
he  says  to  you,  "Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  imto  one  of  the  least 
of  these  my  disciples,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me,"  it  shall  be  more  to 
you  than  if  you  wore  the  crowns  of  the  Csesars  and  carried  all  the 
honors  of  the  earth.     The  world  shall  be  redeemed ;  for  our  God's 


lEE   GOD    OF   COMFORT.  23 

name   is  Mercy   and   Comfort.       The   Redeemer   of    Israel   is  liis 
name. 

2.  There  are  no  troubles  which  befall  our  suffering  hearts  indivi- 
dually for  which  there  is  not  in  God  a  remedy,  if  only  we  rise  to  re- 
ceive it.  God's  nature  is  medicinal  to  ours.  You  have  troubles  ;  I 
have  troubles.  We  have  needless  troubles ;  but  then,  we  have 
troubles  necessary,  troubles  that  will  abide,  troubles  that  harass,  that 
weigh,  that  fever,  that  fret. 

Now,  there  is  victory  for  each  true  Christian  heart  over  its 
troubles.  Not  by  disowning  them  ;  not  by  sloughing  them.  Every 
man  runs  that  way.  The  first  impact  of  i^ain  and  trouble  leads  every 
man  to  say,  "  Cast  it  out !"  Every  man's  prayer  to  God  is,  "  Lord, 
remove  this  thorn  in  the  flesh."  He  has  not  a  thought  of  any  thing 
but  that.  "  Thrice,"  says  the  apostle,  the  most  heroic  of  mortal 
men,  "  I  besought  the  Lord."  And  his  answer  w^aswhat?  "My 
grace  shall  be  sufficient  for  thee,"  He  whose  crown  of  thorns  is 
now  more  illustrious  and  radiant  than  j)recious  stones  could  make  a 
crown,  says  to  every  one  of  his  disciples  that  have  thorns  piercing 
them,  "My  grace  shall  be  sufficient  for  you."  Then  bear,  bear^  bear  ! 

Bear  how?  resignedly?  Oh!  if  you  can  not  do  any  better,  be 
resigned.  That  is  better  than  murmuring — only  just,  though,  I 
hear  i^ersons  in  great  trouble  and  affliction  saying,  "  I  strive  to  be 
resigned."  Well,  strive  for  that ;  strive  for  any  thing  ;  strive  for  the 
lowest  degree  of  Christian  attainment  -rather  than  not  strive  at  all. 
If  you  are  resigned,  say  so  ;  but  do  not  say  it  as  a  whipped  child  says 
it  is  sorry  because  it  is  whij^ped,  and  would  not  say  it  if  it  were  not 
afraid  of  being  whipped  again.  Saying  that,  is  good  as  far  as  it  goes. 
It  is  much  better  to  do  the  least  right  thing  than  to  do  nothing,  or 
the  wrong  thing.  Say  resigyiation  ;  but  resignation  is  not  the  word. 
Resignation  is  a  negative  thing.  It  is  the  consent  of  the  soul  to 
receive  without  replication,  without  revulsion,  without  murmuring, 
without  resistance,  without  rebellion.  It  is  giving  up  a  contest  or 
conflict. 

But  oh  !  is  the  disciple  better  tlian  the  Master  ?  Would  you,  if 
you  could,  reach  forth  your  hand  and  take  back  one  single  sorrow, 
gloomy  then,  but  gorgeous  now,  that  made  Christ  to  you  wliat  he  is  ? 
Is  it  not  the  power  of  Jesus  in  heaven,  and  to  all  eternity  will  it  not 
be  his  glory,  that  he  was  the  Sufferer,  and  that  he  bore  suffering  in 
such  a  way  that  he  vanquished  suffering  ?  And  is  he  not  the  Lord 
over  all  by  reason  of  that  ?  Now  you  are  his  followers  ;  and  will 
you  follow  Christ,  and  will  you  desire  to  be  worthy  of  his  leadership, 
by  slinking  away  from  suffering  ?  Do  not  seek  it ;  but  if  it  comes, 
remember  that  no  sorrow  comes  but  with  his  knowledge.  If  he  does 
not  draw  the  golden  bow  that  sends  the  silver  arrow  to  your  heart, 
he  knows  it  is  sent,  and  sees  it  fall.      You  are  never  in  trouble  that 


24:  TEE   GOD    OF  COMFOET. 

he  does  not  kno\r  it.  And  what  is  trouble  but  that  very  influence 
that  brings  you  nearer  to  the  heart  of  God  tlian  prayers  or  hymns  ? 
I  think  sorrows  bring  us  closer  to  God  than  joys,  usually  ;  but 
sorrows,  to  be  of  use,  must  be  borne,  as  Christ's  were,  victoriously, 
carrying  wath  them  intimations  and  sacred  prophecies  to  the  heart 
of  Hope,  not  only  that  we  shall  not  be  overborne  by  them,  but  that  by 
them  we  shall  be  strengthened  and  ennobled  and  enlai'ged. 

How  is  it,  brother  ?  I  do  not  ask  you  whether  you  like  the  cup 
which  you  are  now  drinking  ;  but  look  back  twenty  years.  Almost 
every  one  of  you  can  think  of  some  troitble  w^hich  you  experienced 
twenty,  or  ten,  or  five  years  ago,  and  Avhich  at  the  time  seemed 
to  you  like  midnight.  It  bowed  you  down ;  and  you  felt  as 
though  your  heart  was  bursting  in  twain.  Now  it  is  all  over,  and  it 
has  wrought  out  its  efiect  on  you  ;  and  I  ask  you,  "Would  you  give 
out  of  your  education  those  twists  and  twirls  which  you  suffered  un- 
der ?  Would  you  have  removed  the  experience  of  that  burden 
which  you  thought  would  crush  you,  but  which  you  fought  in  such  a 
•way  that  you  came  out  a  strong  man  ?  What  has  made  you  so  ver- 
satile? What  has  made  you  so  patient  ?  What  has  made  you  so 
broad,  so  deep,  and  so  rich  ?  God  put  pickaxes  into  you,  though  yoa 
did  not  like  it.  He  dug  wells  of  salvation  in  you.  He  took  you  in 
his  strong  hand,  and  shook  you  by  his  noi-th  wind,  and  rolled  you 
in  his  snows,  and  fed  you  with  the  coarsest  food,  and  clothed  you  iu 
the  coarsest  raiment,  and  beat  you  as  a  flail  beats  grain  till  the  straw 
is  gone  and  the  wheat  is  left.  And  you  are  what  you  are  by  the 
grace  of  God's  pi'ovidence,  many  of  you.  By  fire,  by  anvil-strokes, 
by  the  hammer  that  breaks  the  flinty  rock,  you  are  made  w^hat  you 
are.  You  were  gold  in  the  rock ;  and  God  played  miner,  and  blast- 
ed you  out  of  the  rock  ;  and  then  he  played  stamper,  and  crushed 
you  ;  and  then  he  played  smelter,  and  melted  you ;  and  now  you 
are  gold  free  from  the  rock  by  the  grace  of  God's  severity  to  you. 
And  as  you  look  back  upon  those  experiences  of  five,  or  ten,  or  twenty 
years  ago,  and  see  wdiat  they  have  done  for  you,  and  Avhat  you  are 
now,  you  say,  "  I  would  not  exchange  what  I  learned  from  these 
things  for  all  the  world." 

What  is  the  reason  you  have  never  learned  to  apply  the  same 
philosophy  to  the  trouble  of  to-day  ?  Why  is  it  that,  when  trouble 
comes  on  you  to-day,  your  heart  can  not  rise  uj)  and  say,  "  O  God  of 
darkness,  I  know  thee.  Clouds  are  around  about  thee  ;  but  justice 
and  judgment  are  the  habitations  of  thy  throne"  ?  Why  can  not  you 
do  by  God  as  your  children  do  by  you  ?  If  you  play  with  your  chil- 
dren— and  every  body  ought  to — if  you  dress  yourself  and  come  at 
your  children  with  shapes  of  terror,  how  half-scared,  and  yet  not 
scared,  they  run  at  you,  with  strokes,  and  pull  away  tlie  covering  from 
your  face,  and  rejoice  Avhen  they  begin  to  see  the  features  of  their 


THE   GOD  -OF  COMFORT.  25 

father,  who  is  playing  witli  them.  That  which  terrified  them  is  the 
life  gf  their  sport  when  they  find  you  out.  And  when  God  comes  to 
you  wrapped  and  'wreathed  in  clouds,  and  in  storms,  why  should  we 
not  recognize  liim,  and  say,  "  I  know  thee,  God ;  and  I  will  not  fear 
thee.  Though  thou  slay  me,  I  will  trust  thee"  ?  If  a  man  could 
see  liis  God  in  his  troubles,  and  take  sorrow  to  be  the  lore  of  inspira- 
tion, the  light  of  intei'jiretation,  the  sweet  discipline  of  a  bitter  medi- 
cament that  brings  health,  though  the  taste  is  not  agreeable — if  one 
could  so  look  upon  his  God,  how  would  sorrows  make  him  strong  ! 

3.  Once  more.  No  person  is  ordained  until  his  sorrows  put  into 
his  hands  the  power  of  comforting  others.  Did  any  body  but  Paul 
ever  think  as  Paul  did  ?  See  what  a  genuine  nobleness  and  benevo- 
lence there  was  in  every  thing  he  did.  Sorrow  is  apt  to  be  very  selfish, 
it  is  apt  to  be  self-indulgent ;  but  see  how  sorrow  worked  in  the  apostle. 
"  Blessed  be  God,"  said  he,  "  even  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  the  Father  of  mercies,  and  the  God  of  all  comfort;  Avho 
comforteth  us  in  all  our  tribulation,  that  we  may  be  able  to  comfort 
them  which  are  in  any  trouble  by  the  comfort  wherewith  we  our- 
selves are  comforted  of  God." 

There  is  a  imiversal  instance  and  illustration  of  it.  When  the 
daughter  is  married,  and  goes  from  home,  much  as  she  loves  her 
chosen  companion,  how  often  her  heart  goes  back  to  her  father's 
house !  Father  and  mother  are  never  so  dear  as  about  two  or 
three  years  after  the  child  has  been  separated  from  them — just 
long  enough  to  get  over  the  novelty  of  being  independent.  At 
no  other  time — and  this  is  a  comfort  to  you,  mothers,  who  cry 
when  your  daughters  get  married,  and  you  think  they  love  some- 
body else  besides  you — do  they  so  much  come  back  to  their  parents 
for  counsel.  And  that  is  as  it  should  be ;  for  father  and  mother  are 
the  true  counselors  of  the  cliild.  As  time  goes  on,  the  daughter 
sufiers  from  sickness,  children  are  multiplied  in  the  family,  she  does 
not  know  which  way  to  turn;  and  the  mother  comes  to  her,  journey- 
ing from  afar.  And  oh,  what  a  light  there  is  in  the  dwelling !  The 
mother's  face  is  more  than  stars  in  the  night,  more  than  the  sun  in 
the  daytime,  to  the  home-sick  child.  The  mother  tarries  in  the 
family.  The  children  are  sick ;  there  is  trouble  in  the  household ; 
but  the  daughter  says,  "  Mother  is  here."  And  when  from  her  lips 
fall  sweet  words  of  consolation,  and  she  says,  "  My  dear  child,  noth- 
ing surprising  has  befallen  you ;  I  have  gone  thi-ough  it  all,"  and 
she  narrates  some  of  the  inward  history  of  her  own  life,  of  the 
troubles  that  she  has  experienced,  while  yet  she  is  telling  her  story, 
strangely,  as  if  exhaled,  all  these  drops  of  trouble  that  have  been 
sprinkled  on  the  child's  heart  have  gone,  and  she  is  comforted. 
Why?  Because  the  consolations  by  which  the  mother's  heart  was 
comforted,  have  gone  over  and  rested  on  the  child's  mind. 


26  TEE   GOD    OF  ^COMFORT. 

Now,  tlie  npostle  says,  ""When  Christ  comforts  your  grief,  he 
makes  you  mother  to  somebody  else."  , 

I  know  some  people  who,  when  they  have  griefs,  become  paupers 
and  mendicants.  I  do  not  like  to  talk  so  contemptuously,  though  I 
feel  it  at  first;  but  I  despise,  until  I  stop  and  tliink,  those  people 
who  want  to  parade  their  griefs  and  sorrows.  There  are  persons 
who,  having  had  losses,  go  around  with  a  hat  in  their  hand  begging 
a  penny  of  comfort  from  this  one  and  that  one,  on  account  of  their 
bereavements.  Wherever  they  go,  they  want  to  have  somebody 
talk  about  their  griefs,  and  ask  about  them ;  and  if  people  do  not 
ask  about  them,  they  tell  about  them  without  being  asked.  They 
carry  a  tail  to  their  griefs  as  long  as  a  comet's  tail.  All  the  time 
their  omnivorous  mouth  is  open  to  give  forth  something  concerning 
their  griefs.  They  want  every  body  to  be  interested  in  their 
griefs,  and  sympathize  Avith  them  on  account  of  them.  They  make 
their  griefs  an  occasion  for  mendicancy. 

And  what  does  the  apostle  say  ?  That  when  God  comforts  your 
griefs,  he  ordains  you  to  be  a  minister  of  comfort  to  others  who  are 
in  trouble.  You  are  not  to  seek  comfort  for  yourselves,  but  are,  out 
of  your  experience  of  heart,  to  pour  comfort  into  other  people's 
wounded  hearts.     That  is  the  ministration  of  sorrow. 

Christian  brethren,  does  God  so  comfort  you  that  you  are  able  to 
bear  the  yoke,  and  to  endure  the  jiiercing  thorn  ?  And  when  God 
enables  you  to  bear  it,  is  your  first  thought  this,  "I  am  now  ad- 
mitted into  the  sacred  church  of  the  sufierers;  I  am  now  marked 
with  the  cross,  as  one  that  bears  for  others ;  I  am  lifted  up  among 
my  fellow-men,  not  to  be  pi'aised,  but  that  I  may  go  about  as  my 
Master  did,  and  minister  to  them  the  consolations  by  which  I  myself 
have  been  comforted"  ?  Do  not  any  of  you  say,  "  The  cujd  is  too 
large  and  too  bitter."  Never.  The  Hand  that  was  pierced  for  you 
takes  the  cup,  and  gives  it  to  you ;  and  Christ  loves  you  too  much  to 
give  you  a  cup  that  you  can  not  drink.  Do  not  say,  "  The  burden 
is  too  great ;  I  can  not  bear  it."  He  that  loves  you,  as  you  do  not 
even  yourself  love  yourself,  the  Redeemer,  "the  God  of  all  comfort," 
"  the  Father  of  mercies,"  Jays  every  burden  on  you ;  and  he  that 
lays  the  burden  on,  will  give  you  strength  to  bear  it.  Take  up 
your  cross.  God  gives  every  body,  I  think,  a  cross,  Avhen  he  enters 
upon  a  Christian  life.  When  it  comes  into  his  hands,  what  is  it  ? 
It  is  tlie  rude  oak,  four-square,  full  of  splinters  and  slivers,  and 
rudely  tacked  together.  And  after  forty  years  I  see  some  men  carry- 
ing their  cross  just  as  rude  as  it  was  at  first.  Others,  I  perceive,  be- 
gin to  wind  around  about  it  faith,  and  hope,  and  patience ;  and  after 
a  time,  like  Aaron's  rod,  it  blossoms  all  over.  And  at  last  their  cross 
has  been  so  covered  with  holy  afiections  that  it  does  not  seem  any 
more  to  be  a  cross.    They  carry  it  so  easily,  and  are  so  much  more 


THE   GOD    OF  COMFORT.  2^ 

strengthened  than  burdened  by  it,  that  men  almost  forget  that  it  is 
a  cross,  by  the  triumph  with  which  they  carry  it.  Carry  your  cross 
in  such  a  way  that  there  shall  be  victory  iu  it ;  and  let  every  tear 
as  it  drops  from  your  eye,  glance  also,  as  the  light  strikes  through  it, 
with  the  consolations  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

There  be  many  of  you  that  are  standing  in  dark  hours  now,  and 
that  need  just  these  consolations.  My  dear  child,  my  daughter,  my 
son,  be  not  surprised — certainly  not  out  of  your  faith.  God  is  not  an- 
gry with  you.  It  is  not  necessarily  for  your  sins  that  you  are  afflicted 
— though  we  are  all  sinful.  For  your  good  God  afflicts  you  ;  and  he 
says  to  you,  "  What  father  is  he  that  chastiseth  not  his  son  ?  If  ye 
endure  chastisement,  ye  are  my  sons.  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he 
chasteneth."  O  glorious  fact !  O  blessed  truth  !  These  are  God's 
love-letters,  written  in  dark  ink.  "  Whom  the  Lord  loveth  he  chas- 
teneth, and  scourgeth  every  son  whom  he  receiveth.  If  ye  endure 
chastening,"  ye  are  the  sons  of  God ;  if  not,  bastards. 

Grant,  O  God  !  that  we  may  be  sons.  Now  speak,  and  see  if  thou 
canst  scare  us.  Now  thunder,  and  see  if  we  tremble.  Now  write, 
and  see  if  we  do  not  press  thy  messages  to  our  heart.  Afflict  us, 
only  do  not  forget  us.  Comfort  us,  and  we  will  bear  to  others  the 
comfort  ichereioith  we  are  comforted. 

PRATER  BEFORE  THE  SERMOK. 

We  thank  thee,  almighty  God,  that  thou  art  as  a  city  on  every  side  of  which  thei'e  are  gates. 
Thou  art  accessible  at  all  times,  and  to  all.  There  is  no  cry  so  feeble  that  the  storm  shall  beat  it 
down,  or  the  thunder  of  the  world  hide  it.  Up  through  all  noise  and  opposition,  the  faintest 
■wish  and  cry  presses  to  thee,  and  is  heard.  There  is  no  heart  so  weak  that  it  can  not  make  its 
■way  among  hearts.  There  is  no  heart  that  hungers  and  thirsts  and  faints,  and  is  weary  unto 
death,  but  that  has  power  with  the  mightiest  to  overcome  omnipotence.  By  as  much  as  we  are 
weak,  are  we  strong  with  thee.  The  more  lowly  we  are,  the  more  are  we  before  thee  evermore. 
With  the  humble  and  the  contrite  in  spirit  thou  dost  dwell ;  for  they  that  need  thee  most  are 
most  in  thy  thought.  And  though  our  necessities  spring  from  transgression,  though  guilt  goes 
■with  want,  we  are  none  the  less  the  objects  of  thy  loving  care,  and  of  thy  pardoning  mercy.  And 
though  the  earth  has  been  full  of  crimes,  though  the  stream  of  men's  thoughts  has  roUed  dark 
and  guilty,  and  though  the  whole  of  creation  has  groaned  and  travaUed  in  pain  until  now,  vexed 
and  tormented  :  yet  thou  hast  let  fly,  and  never  called  back  again  over  all  this  desolate  world,  and 
the  floods  of  its  iniquity,  that  word,  "Whosoever  will,  let  him  come  and  take  of  the  water  of  life 
freely."  For  all  this  hope  that  is  set  loose  with  thine  invitation,  for  all  the  vision  of  thine  excel- 
lent glory  which  we  behold  in  this  thy  wonderful  call,  we  render  thee  thanksgiving  and  praise. 
For  thou  art  not  the  highest  that  thou  mightest  oppress,  nor  even  that  thou  mightest  bring  to 
rigorous  justice  those  that  are  under  condemnation.  Thou  art  the  Healer  of  all  that  live.  Thou 
art  the  best,  and  yet  the  tenderest.  Thou  art  the  most  unspotted  and  the  most  sympathetic  with 
those  that  are  stained,  even  unto  death.  Thou,  O  God,  hast  need  of  no  one  thyself,  and  yet,  art 
the  one  universal  Helper  of  those  that  are  needy.  Thou  art  infinitely  rich,  and  no  one  can  add  to 
thy  store ;  and  yet,  thou  art  bountiful,  giving  forth  with  eternal  profusion  to  those  that  are 
needy.  Thou  art  the  one  against  whom  we  have  offended ;  and  yet  thou  art  the  suppliant,  and 
dost  stana  at  the  door  of  the  heart  persuading  and  knocking,  as  if  it  were  a  refuge  that  thou  dost 
seek  against  the  pursuer?  find  not  as  if  thou  wert  wooing  and  ■winning  us  to  our  own  good. 

Who  shall  3peak  thy  natitre?  and  who  shall  enter  into  all  the  richness  of  thy  thoughts,  and 
their  processions  ?  Who  shall  be  able  to  describe  what  thou  art,  thou  glorious  "  God  of  all  com- 
Jorf — thou  "Father  of  mercies"? 

We  desire  to  humble  ourselves  because  thou  art  so  good,  in  the  memory  and  knowledge,  and 
In  the  present  consciousness  of  our  o^wn  sins  and  unworthiness.  K  thou  hadst  been  hard,  even 
though  just,  we  might  have  found  some  delight  in  hiding,  or  seeking  to  hide,  transgression,  or  to 
evade  penalty  ;  but  since  thou  art  lenient,  since  thou  art  tender  and  most  merciful,  how  shall  we 
forgive  ourselves  that  we  have  run  greedily  to  do  evil  in  thy  sight  ?    How  shall  we  be  content 


28  THE   GOD    OF  COMFOBT. 

with  ourselves  that,  joined  to  such  a  nobility,  that,  being  the  sons  of  God,  we  have  been  content 
to  divide  with  the  smne  the  food  which  they  did  eat  ?  We  are  ashamed  of  sinning ;  we  are 
ashamed  of  thoughts  unworthy  of  thy  company ;  aud  we  desire  that  the  goodness  of  God  may 
lead  us  to  repent.  May  we  not  await  thy  scourge.  May  we  not  wait  until  we  hear  the  thunders 
of  the  far-coming  judgments.  May  thy  meekness,  may  thy  gentleness,  may  thy  goodness  win  us. 
And  we  pray  this  day  that  we  may  have  such  a  sense  of  thy  presence  and  mercy  and  majesty, 
that  from  its  universality  and  fuUness  and  adaptation  to  all  our  wants  we  shall  rise  up  strength- 
ened, not  in  our  own  conceit,  but  in  our  God.  May  we  learn  more  and  more  to  glory  in  the 
Lord,  rather  than  in  outward  things,  rather  than  in  the  repute  which  we  seek  among  men,  or  in 
riches,  or  in  any  pleasure,  or  in  any  duty  to  which  our  hands  are  put.  May  we  rejoice  in  the 
Lord. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  to  all  thy  dear  servants  who  are  pr  esent  this  morn- 
ing such  familiarity  of  access,  such  boldness  of  petition,  that  they  may  ask  whatever  they  this 
day  may  need  for  themselves,  for  their  distempered  hearty  and  dispositions,  for  the  purposes  the 
accomplishment  of  which  is  long  delayed,  or  for  their  own  households.  Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee, 
that  the  thoughts  of  love  in  their  wide  cuxuits  may  carry  with  them  divine  benefaction ;  and 
if  we  think  of  those  afar  off,  across  the  sea,  or  in  the  wilderness,  or  in  circumstances  of  peril  and 
of  trial,  may  our  thoughts  be  but  the  premonitions  of  thy  fullness  this  day.  If  there  be  in  thy 
presence  those  that  are  burdened  and  that  need  relief,  and  come  to  thee  for  relief,  oh  !  vouchsafe  to 
them  the  fulfillment  of  thy  words  of  mercy,  and  do  exceeding  more  for  them  than  they  ask  or 
think,  to  the  honor  and  glory  of  thy  gracious  name. 

Be  near  to  all  those  that  are  bereaved,  and  comfort  them.  May  they  not  think  that  any 
strange  thing  has  befallen  them  in  tiiis  world  of  sorrows,  and  death,  and  anguished  hearts  yet 
living  that  would  they  were  dead. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  those  that  are  called  to  mourn  may  look  up  to  God,  and  take 
their  sorrows  to  themselves  in  the  light  of  his  countenance.  Thou  that  canst  make  the  storm 
cloud  glow  with  aU  the  colors  of  the  heaven,  canst  not  thou  shine  upon  human  griefs  until  they 
are  beautiful  ?  We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  strengthen  them  that  are  weak,  and  that  are  pass- 
ing through  sorrows  which  for  the  moment  overbear  them.  If  they  cry  out,  "  All  thy  waves  have 
gone  over  me  !"  yet.  Lord,  arise,  thou  that  seemest  to  sleep,  and  rebuke  the  wind  and  the  waves, 
that  there  may  be  calm  with  them.  Sanctify  affliction  wherever  it  is,  that  it  may  make  men 
better ;  that  it  may  make  them  more  humble,  more  meek,  more  pure ;  and  that  it  may  make 
them  more  sympathetic  with  their  fellow-men. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  accept  the  consecration  which  thy  servants  make  of  them- 
selves, praying  to-day  in  thy  presence  ;  and  if  they  yearn  and  desire  a  nobler  life  ;  if  they  mourn 
that  their  attainments  are  so  far  below  their  ideals  ;  if  they  from  day  to  day  find  the  resolutions 
of  yesterday  broken,  and  the  dead  are  evermore  burying  the  dead,  grant,  we  beseech  of  thee, 
that  they  may  not  be  discouraged,  but  that  they  may  "press  toward  the  mark  for  the  prize  of 
the  high  calling  of  God  in  Clirist  Jesus." 

We  pray  that  thou  wilt  bless  parents  that  are  endeavoring  to  rear  up  a  generation  to  serve 
thee.  May  the  children  of  the  households  of  this  church  and  society  come  up  in  remembrance 
before  thee.  And  as  evils  are  on  every  side,  seeking  to  snare  them,  as  the  fiery  blasts  are  ready 
to  sweep  over  them,  grant,  O  God,  that  the  young  may  be  precious  in  tliy  sight,  and  that  they 
may  be  so  reared  that  when  they  are  old  they  shall  not  depart  from  virtue  and  from  truth. 

We  pray  that  thou  wilt  make  more  and  more  efficacious  the  labors  of  thy  servants  who  go 
forth  to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost.  May  they  not  be  weary  in  well-doing,  and  may  they  not  be- 
come puffed  up,  nor  conceited,  by  all  the  labor  which  they  perform.  May  they  evermore  remem- 
ber that  it  is  tlieir  privilege,  and  an  inestimable  favor,  that  thou  dost  permit  them  to  labor  iu  the 
vineyard  with  thee.  And  may  they  walk  humbly,  and  bear  not  alone  the  name  of  Christ,  but  the 
spirit  of  their  blessed  Master. 

We  pray  that  thou  wilt  look  upon  the  churches  of  these  cities,  and  bless  them.  May  those 
that  minister  iu  them  be  able  wisely  to  divine  thy  Word  and  thy  power  from  on  high.  Wilt  thou 
make  thy  Word  effectual.  We  pray  that  thou  wilt  revive  thy  work  in  all  the  churches  of  this 
land.  May  the  gracious  outpourings  of  thy  Spirit  be  as  the  rain.  And  we  pray  thee  that  it  may 
be  as  rain  not  upon  the  sand,  but  upon  the  soil. 

We  pray  that  thou  wilt  help,  in  this  great  time  of  our  nation's  need,  aU  those  that  purpose 
things  wise,  and  just,  and  pure,  and  true,  and  good  ;  and  may  the  counsels  of  the  ungodly  come 
to  naught.  And  we  beseech  ot  thee  that  thou  wilt  overrule  events  for  the  furtherance  of  justice 
and  liberty.  May  education  and  intelligence  prevail  among  all  our  people.  We  pray  that  we  may 
be  united,  at  last,  inwardly,  in  righteousness.  And  grant  that  we  may  not  seek  stability  by  vio- 
lence.   KmX  only  in  God  may  we  seek  strength  and  continuance. 

Remember  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  ;  and  in  the  various  struggles  which  are  sUently  or 
openly  going  on,  be  thou  on  the  side  of  the  right.  Strengthen  the  weak  and  the  needy.  Fulfill 
thy  promises.  Command  the  mountains,  that  they  come  down,  and  the  valleys,  that  they  exalt 
themselves.  And  may  the  way  of  the  Lord  be  cast  up  among  the  people,  and  the  ransomed  of  the 
Lord  return,  and  come  to  Zion  with  songs  and  everlasting  joy  upon  their  head.  And  to  thy  name 
shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son,  ano  Spirit.    Arnen. 


i 


in. 
THE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION. 


THE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION, 

SUNDAY   MORNING,  OCTOBER  4,  1868. 


"  Then  went  out  to  liim  Jerusalem,  and  all  Judea,  and  all  the  region  round 
about  Jordan,  and  were  baptized  of  liirn  in  Jordan,  confessing  th.eir  sins." — Matt. 
iii.  5,  6. 


The  expression,  confessing  their  sins,  is  more  significant  than  you 
think.  There  are  many  that  confess  their  sinfulness,  Avho  Avill  not 
confess  their  sins.  They  will  confess  that  they  are  dej)raved,  but  they 
will  not  confess  the  special  evils  which  make  up  that  depravity.  In- 
deed, many  confess  their  sinfulness  as  a  substantial  justification  of  spe- 
cial sins.  They  treat  sinfulness  as  if  it  were  a  fate,  a  sovereign 
necessity,  which  domineered  the  world  and  prostrated  men  as  mighty 
winds  overturn  trees  and  dwellings.  In  its  universality,  and  in  the 
certainty  of  its  action,  men  have  a  latent  justification  or  palliation  of 
their  special  evils.  "  We  have  sinned  •  to  be  sure  we  have,"  say  they. 
"  All  men  sin.  It  was  to  be  expected.  Men  are  held  to  a  necessity 
of  sinning  by  a  law  as  imperative  as  the  law  of  gravitation." 

Thus  sin  becomes  a  scientific  matter  with  a  great  many  men. 
Men  hold  to  sin  as  one  of  their  rights  under  the  constitution  of  this 
world.  This  great  fact  of  generic  sinfulness,  in  which  all  men  are 
alike,  the  confession  of  which  does  not  separate  one  man  from  anoth- 
er, nor  discriminate  unfavorably  against  individuals,  men  confess 
freely.  But  the  particular  actions  which  spring  up  under  this 
universal  sinfulness,  the  ridiculousness  of  vanity,  the  unreasonableness 
of  the  element  of  pride,  the  insatiable  selfishness,  the  infidelity  to 
honor,  the  violation  of  truth,  the  soil  and  stain  of  illicit  pleasure,  the 
subtle  envyings  which  fever  the  blood,  and  the  jealousies  which  fret 
the  disposition,  and,  above  all,  the  great  family  of  sins  Avhich  must  be 
classed  under  the  head  of  meannesses ^  sins  so  minute  that  they  can 
hardly  be  named,  so  subtle  that  they  can  not  be  pictured;  that,  like 
the  spores  of  vegetable  fungus,  or  the  seeds  of  pestilence  which  fill 
the  air,  are  yet  impalpable — all  these,  men  stoutly  refuse  to  confess. 
They  are  far  more  likely  to  deny  them.     If  pressed  with  the  evi- 


30  THE   NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION: 

dence  of  their  existence,  they  cast  up  iutrenchments  and  defend 
themselves  as  against  an  enemy. 

And  so  we  see  this  paradox,  that  men  are  too  facile  in  confessing 
their  sinfulness,  and  yet  obstinate  in  not  confessing  their  sins.  One 
reason  why  men  do  not  willingly  recognize  and  confess  sin  as  an  indi- 
vidual act  is,  that  they  can  not  endure  to  stand  before  their  fellows  as 
culjM-its,  either  in  their  own  thoughts,  or  in  the  reflected  opinions  of 
their  neighbors.  If  sin,  even  the  wickedest  and  meanest,  were  only 
to  become  common  and  allowable  and  fashionable,  then  men  would 
confess  w^hat  now  they  deny  ;  because  then  the  confession  would 
not  mark  them  out  as  sinners  above  others.  They  sin  in  companies 
so  large  and  respectable  that  they  are  not  ashamed,  inasmuch 
as  men's  consciences  are,  in  fact,  made  up  more  largely  of  the  rules 
which  govern  them — of  the  opinions  of  society — than  of  absolute 
moral  stand-points  and  laws. 

There  are  two  cases  which  lead  men  in  communities  to  the  con- 
fession of  particular  sins  in  the  presence  of  their  fellows,  before  God 
and  before  man.  Any  moral  exaltation  which  places  them  so  that 
they  see  evil  from  a  plane  higher  than  that  on  which  they  live  ordi- 
narily, and  where  its  relations,  its  tendencies,  its  nature  and  charac- 
ter are  clearly  revealed,  constantly  tends  to  produce  confession. 
There  is  also  a  confession  which  results  from  social  magnetism. 
Communities  ai'e  sometimes  possessed,  for  short  periods,  with  a  par- 
oxysm of  contrition. 

I  read  you  one  of  the  most  remarkable  instances,  in  the  opening 
service  this  morning,  where  a  whole  nation  bowed  down  in  the  pres- 
ence of  one  man,  and,  as  it  were,  confessed  the  folly  of  their  idolatry, 
and  professed  the  grandeur  of  their  faith  in  Jehovah.* 

You  will  also  remember  how,  under  Peter's  sermon,  at  the  Day  of 
Pentecost,  thousands  were  cut  to  the  heart,  and  confessed  their  sins, 
as  well  as  the  great  sin  of  the  crucifixion  of  the  Saviour. 

You  will  remember  in  the  book  of  Acts,  how,  under  the  AjDOStles' 
teaching  and  preaching,  the  jugglers  and  sorcerers  brought  and  burned 
in  the  public  market-place  books  and  various  instruments  of  their  fol- 
lies, valued  at  a  great  sum. 

We  have  had  similar  movements  in  our  own  history.  The  Wash- 
ingtoniau  temperance  movement  was  one  of  them;  and  a  very 
extraordinary  movement  it  was  in  its  day,  in  which  the  consciences 
of  a  laro-e  class  of  men  throughout  the  nation  seemed  to  be  seized 
with  a  spirit  of  divine  afflatus  and  inspiration.  Let  other  men  carp, 
and  note  how  few  were  saved ;  but  I  look  upon  it  as  one  of  the  sub- 
limest  moral  developments  that  ever  took  place  in  my  lifetime.  To 
see  so  many  thousands  and  thousands  of  men,  whose  sins  were  of  the 

*  1  Kings  xviii. 


THE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION.  31 

most  desperate  cliaracter,  and  whose  habits  were  the  most  infrangi- 
ble, banding  themselves  together,  and  rising  up  and  becoming  re- 
formers, from  the  very  precincts  of  perdition  —  it  was  an  extraordi- 
nary moral  phenomenon. 

The  Water  street  movement  in  New-York,  to-day,  is  another 
such  movement.  It  is  not  only  surprising,  but  the  fxct  that  at  so  low 
a  depth  as  that  there  is  enough  moral  resiliency  to  constitute  a  kind 
of  jjaroxysmal — fanatical,  some  call  it — social  impulsive  repentance 
of  Avrong,  is  one  of  the  most  solemn  and  one  of  the  most  extraordi- 
nary events  that  can  occur. 

The  peculiar  causes  which  have  dominated  in  these  men  leave  us 
to  fear  that  the  reformations  will  not  be  very  many ;  but  it  is  not  a 
small  thing  to  see  the  attempted  reformation  of  such  men  and  such 
women  as  live  there.  One  man  and  one  woman  saved  are  more  than 
return  enough  for  all  the  prayer,  the  labor,  the  hojjc,  and  the  enthusi- 
asm that  have  been  expended  ujDon  them.  It  is  not  surprising  that 
men  should  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  transgressions  and  iniquities, 
stop  short,  and  be  pierced  with  a  sense  of  the  heinousness  of  their 
course  and  character,  and  that  they  should  say,  "Men  and  brethren, 
what  shall  we  do  to  be  saved  ?"  And  if  there  is  any  thing  remarkable 
in  this  case,  it  is  that  it  is  a  movement  that  has  taken  place  so  far  down 
along  the  scale  of  depravity.  But  most  of  those  men,  if  they  are  made 
better  at  all,  will  all  their  life  long  be  only  convalescent  moral  cripples  : 
for  a  man  can  not  violate  every  moral  law  and  every  physical 
law  at  the  same  time,  through  years  and  years,  and  then  recover  him- 
self  merely  by  a  volition.  Repentance  may  begin  the  work  instantly, 
but  the  completion  of  the  reformation,  in  such  cases  as  tliat,  requires 
a  sphere  of  years.  If  one  could  wallow  amidst  filth  for  half  a  life,  and 
then  wash  himself  clean  in  a  day,  then  sin  would  be  no  worse  than 
dirt  on  the  hands  which  water  can  cleanse  in  a  minute.  Sin  Avould 
be  robbed  of  half  its  danger  if  it  were  curable  in  a  moment. 

Such  was  the  scene  in  our  text.  John  Avent  forth  preaching ;  and 
imder  his  discourse  there  sprung  up  one  of  these  strange  circles  of 
religious  movement — a  sort  of  whirljDOol  of  moral  feeling  that  sucked 
into  it  all  the  region  round  about;  and  they  were  bajDtized  of  him, 
confessing  their  sins.  I  wonder  v/hat  things  were  confessed  by 
them.  Did  the  priest  confess  his  love  of  power,  and  his  arro- 
gance in  the  management  of  it  ?  Did  the  administrator  declare 
to  John  that  he  had  defrauded  the  estate  on  winch  he  admin- 
istered ?  Did  the  man  admit  at  last  that  he  had  sworn  falsely 
against  his  neighbor,  and  taken  life  and  property  by  perjury  ? 
Did  the  neighbor  own  and  confess  that  sneering  slander  Avitli 
Avhich  he  had  covered  his  pretended  friend,  circvdating  it  secretly, 
like  poison  in  the  blood,  through  the  community?     Did  that  man 


32  THE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION. 

who  was  reputed  honest,  Avhisper  in  John's  ear,  "  Sir,  I  am  a  thief"  ? 
Did  the  rigorous  prude,  carried  along  by  this  electric  influence,  pas- 
sionately cry  out,  "  My  decency  is  but  a  garment  worn  to  hide 
shame"  ?  Did  one  say,  "  I  am  an  extortioner,"  and  another,  "  I 
am  a  liar,"  and  another,  "  I  am  thoroughly  selfish"  ?  And  did 
they,  as  merchants  in  a  fair,  crowd  their  goods  forward  ;  and,  calling 
them  out,  did  they  cry,  some  one  thing,  and  some  another ;  one  say- 
ing, "  Pride ;"  another  saying, "  Vanity  ;"  another,  "  Deceit ;"  another, 
"  Hypocrisy  ;"  another,  "  Laziness  and  filthiness  ;"  another,  "  Drunken- 
ness, and  cruelty,  and  immorality"  ?  It  is  said  that  they  confessed 
their  sins.  If  all  the  sins  that  they  confessed  had  been  collected  and 
hung  up,  what  a  spectacle  they  would  have  presented  !  What  a 
sight  it  would  have  been  to  have  seen  all  the  sins  of  Jerusalem  and 
Judea,  and  all  the  region  round  about  Jordan,  confessed,  and  embod- 
ied, and  hung  up  !  And  yet  I  think  any  congregation  could  match 
it,  if  they  were  to  confess  their  sins  ! 

One  of  the  striking  peculiarities  of  Christ's  teaching,  and  the 
teachings  of  those  who  were  inspired  by  him,  was  the  unconditional 
requisition  of  moral  purity  which  they  made.  The  very  first  step  in 
a  religious  life  was  one  of  personal  purification.  They  were  not 
called  to  join  the  church.  They  were  not  called  to  a  life  of  venera- 
tion, nor  to  a  life  of  ecstatic  worship.  Still  less  wei-e  they  called  to 
be  partisans  of  a  sect  or  a  school,  and  to  swell  the  ranks  of  a  new 
church.  The  overture  that  was  made  always  was.  Repent!  That 
was  the  word.  And  this  is  the  true  spiritual  anatomy  of  the  king- 
dom of  Christ. 

It  is  not  to  be  taught,  if  we  would  follow  the  spirit  of  this  open- 
ing and  prosecution  of  the  kingdom  of  righteousness  in  the  hands  of 
the  Master  and  of  his  disciples,  that  men  are  to  confess  to  their 
priests.  We  ai'e  told  to  confess  our  faults  one  to  another  ;  but 
that  certainly  does  not  make  confession  of  our  evils  to  our  jjriest 
obligatory.  That  is  a  social  duty.  It  is  not  an  ofiicial  obser- 
vance. Every  single  day  we  are  doing  things  that  oifend  one 
another  ;  and  we  are  to  have  that  pliant  honesty  which  shall  recognize 
wrong  as  we  every  day  commit  it,  and  at  once  acknowledge  it. 
"  Confess  yoiu-  faults  one  to  another."  Because  you  have  said  it,  do 
not  stick  to  it,  as  the  proverb  has  it.  If  you  have  done  it,  do  not  jus- 
tify it  because  you  have  done  it.  Be  easy  to  be  entreated.  When  you 
have  thought  wrong,  spoken  wrong,  done  Avrong,  and  it  is  brought 
home  to  you,  admit  it  at  once,  no  matter  what  the  consequence  may 
be.  Be  true ;  be  honest ;  confess  your  faults  one  to  another  j  but 
it  does  not  follow  that  you  must  put  on  your  garments  and  go  down 
to  the  church  and  confess  them  to  the  priest.  It  is  not  forbidden. 
This  is  a  free  country,  and  if  any  body  wants  to  do  so,  he  may.    If 


TEE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION.  33 

raiy  one  has  fouud  benefit  in  it,  let  him  be  thankful,  and  do  it  again. 
I  do  not  deride  it  nor  forbid  it ;  but  I  say  that  it  is  not  obligatory. 
The  Scripture  does  not  ordain  it,  nor  enjoin  it;  but  if  your  spirit  can 
work  profit  out  of  it,  by  all  means  take  advantage  of  it. 

Nor  are  Ave  commanded  to  confess  every  act  before  men.  So  little 
lias  there  been  taught,  and  so  little  discrimination  has  resulted  from  re- 
flection, or  from  conduct,  in  this  matter,  that  consciences  which  in  the 
first  jjlace  lay  dormant  through  years  and  years,  not  noting  sin,  not 
holding  back  their  possessors  from  transgression,  when  at  last  they 
become  tremendously  stimulated,  are  very  apt  to  go  to  the  other 
extreme.  And  having  slept  when  they  should  have  watched,  they 
bark  immensely  when  they  should  be  silent.  Conscience,  therefore, 
frequently  leads  men  to  make  the  most  injudicious  confessions,  and 
to  make  them  to  the  most  injudicious  persons.  I  do  not  think  we  are 
bound  to  confess  crimes  in  such  a  way  that  they^  will  overtake  us  and 
fill  us  with  dismay  and  confusion  and  destruction — and  not  only  us, 
but  those  who  are  socially  connected  with  us.  If  your  conscience  is 
aroused,  and  you  have  committed  a  crime,  your  first  step  is  to  cleanse 
your  hands  and  feet  from  all  participation  in  any  wrong.  And  before 
confessing  the  act  itself,  you  should  take  counsel,  and  find  out  wise 
counsel.  It  is  often  better  that  past  crimes  should  slumber,  so  far  as 
the  community  is  concerned.  And  that  which  is  true  of  crimes,  is 
equally  true  of  vices.  There  be  many  things  that  are  great  sins, 
grievous  and  wounding,  which,  having  been  committed,  the  con- 
science of  the  actor  leads  him  to  feel  that  there  is  a  kind  of  expiation, 
or,  at  any  rate,  a  justice,  which  requires  that  he  should,  with  open 
mouth,  confess  that  which  has  hitherto  been  secret.  Forsake,  surely ; 
to  God  confess ;  but  it  does  not  follow,  especially  when  your  confes- 
sion would  entail  misery  and  sufiering  upon  all  that  are  connected 
with  you,  that  you  should  make  confession,  merely  for  the  sake  of 
relieving  your  own  conscience. 

Still  less  is  a  man  who  has  fallen  under  the  temptations  of  the 
cup  obliged  to  go  down  the  street  proclaiming,  "  I  have  been  drunk." 
Such  indiscrimination  as  that  would  be  mischievous  to  the  whole 
community,  and  mischievous  to  the  man  himself  Hold  your  peace, 
and  put  the  cup  far  from  you.  If  you  have  wronged  any  one  in  this 
mode,  go  to  him  and  tell  him  your  finlt  between  him  and  you  alone. 
You  are  not  bound  to  confess  to  all  the  Avorld. 

On  the  other  hand,  if  a  man  has  been  a  notorious  liver ;  if  his  sins 
have  been  not  only  many,  but  notorious ;  if  all  the  neighborhood  knows 
them ;  if  he  has  denied  them,  or  covered  them,  and  yet  not  hid  them, 
and  they  are  known ;  and  if  he  professes  that  he  has  changed,  one  of 
the  fruits  meet  for  repentance  is  that  he  should  declare  his  transgres- 
sion as  publicly  as  that  transgression  has  been  known.     If  a  man  has 


34  THE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION. 

lived  a  life  of  fraud,  and  has  justly  obtained  a  reputation  for  it;  if  a  man 
has  lived  in  ill  temper,  and  has  obtained  a  reputation  for  it ;  if  a  man 
has  lived  in  immoralities,  and  lias  obtained  a  reputation  for  it,  when 
he  is  called  to  join  the  people  of  God  one  of  his  duties  is  that  of  con- 
fession, lie  is  not  called  to  enter  into  any  minute  morbid  details; 
but  the  public  declaration  before  the  household  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  that  he  has  been  guilty  of  the  turpitudes  and  transgressions 
which  have  been  alleged  against  him,  and  which  have  given  him  his 
bad  reputation,  is  good  for  his  soul,  as  well  as  the  souls  of  others 
in  the  community. 

While  then,  we  are  not  to  confess  officially,  and  to  the  priest,  as 
a  matter  of  duty,  though  we  may  as  a  matter  of  liberty ;  while  we 
are  not  to  confess  every  flagrant  act,  and  make  that  public  which 
was  not  made  public  before  ;  while  we  are  to  confess  those  sins  which 
were  in  their  nature  public  and  notorious  before,  if  we  would  have 
the  mercy  of  God  and  charity  with  our  fellow-men,  we  should  live  in 
the  consciousness  of  our  real  moral  condition,  and  our  sinfulness  and 
our  sin  should  be  freely  confessed  to  God,  and,  so  far  as  proper,  to 
our  fellow-men.  A  disposition  that  fairly  looks  in  the  face  a  man's 
real  moral  nature,  and  that  so  recognizes  it  that  the  heart  does  con- 
fess somewhere — in  most  cases  to  God,  and  in  special  cases,  where  it 
is  required,  to  men — is  enjoined  by  the  "Word  of  God.  But  the  main 
point  is  the  rousing  up  of  such  a  moral  discriminating  sense  in  a 
man,  that  sin  is  sinful  to  him,  so  that  he  shall  see  it  as  it  is,  and 
shall  dare  to  put  the  name  to  it  which  God  has  put  to  sin.  We 
talk  a  language  in  our  thoughts  which  we  do  not  talk  out  of  doors. 
Call  to  mind  the  way  in  which  men  look  at  their  sins ;  think  of  the 
euphonisms,  the  soft  periphrases,  the  words  from  other  languages, 
which  they  apply  to  their  own  transgressions;  and  then  hear  them 
talk  of  the  very  same  things  in  their  neighbors.  Hear  them, 
when  they  speak  of  others,  use  the  terms,  "  brute,"  "  thief,"  ''  de- 
fraud," "lied,"  "stole."  When  they  do  the  same  things,  what  do 
they  say  of  their  own  conduct  ?  "  May  be  I  did  take  a  little  advan- 
tage I  Perhaps  I  was  a  little  wrong !"  Under  these  soft  terms  pre- 
cisely the  same  conduct  in  themselves  is  described. 

Now,  the  word  of  the  Gospel  is,  that  a  man  shall  see  things  in 
their  true  moral  light;  that  he  shall  call  them  by  their  right  names; 
that  he  shall  be  sensitive  to  their  moral  turpitude  ;  that  he  shall  re- 
nounce them  ;  and  that,  as  a  token  of  it,  he  shall  confess  before  God 
his  sins,  specifically  and  generally ;  that  he  shall  be  honest,  in  other 
words,  with  all  sins. 

We  shall  sin  as  long  as  we  live ;  but  "  he  that  covereth  his  sins 
shall  not  prosper,"  while  he  who  "  confesseth  and  forsaketh  them 
shall  have  mercy." 


TEE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION:  35 

"When  men  first  come  under  the  Impulse  of  a  religious  life,  if  it  be 
a  strong  impulse,  if  it  come  upon  them  in  connection  with  their  fel- 
low-men, and  under  such  conditions  that  it  amounts  to  an  enthusiasm, 
they  usually  do  mean  not  only  to  make  a  clean  breast,  but  to  main- 
tain the  confessing  disposition.  There  are  very  few  persons  that 
enter  upon  a  religious  life  who  do  not  mean  to  be  good  Christians. 
There  are  very  few  men  who  attain  to  that  which  they  resolve.  The 
majority  fall  into  conventional  ways.  They  lose  moral  sensibility. 
'  They  adopt  the  moral  averages  of  the  society  and  of  the  state  to 
which  they  belong.  There  is  no  moral  law,  high  and  universal,  out- 
side of  the  household  and  of  the  state  or  party,  in  1:)ractice,  which  is 
stronger  than  these  concrete  influences ;  and  men,  therefore,  Avho  beo-in 
with  enthusiasm,  and  with  high  purposes  and  resolves,  very  soon  fall 
back,  and  begin  to  judge  of  themselves  as  their  neighbors  think  of 
them,  and  to  apply  to  themselves  not  the  pure  law  of  the  Word  of 
God,  not  the  spiritual  law,  but  the  opinions  of  others,  the  maxims 
and  permissions  of  human  society  ;  and  they  very  soon  thus  lose  all 
sensibility.  And  a  man  who  has  lost  sensibility  to  sin  has  lost  one  of 
the  prime  stimulants  to  righteousness. 

Where,  however,  men  attempt  to  pursue  a  religious  life  with  a 
growing  tenderness  of  conscience,  how  long  a  conflict  they  have  !  And 
on  this  very  point  of  honesty  in  the  recognition  and  confession  of  sin,, 
how  few  men  there  are  that  have  trained  themselves  to  know  just 
the  truth  about  themselves !  There  is  not  so  much  pettifogging  in 
the  worst  court  in  the  worst  city  on  this  continent,  as  there  is  in  the 
hearts  of  men  who  pass  for  good  men,  and  who  are  in  some  sense 
good  men.  There  are  not  anywhei-e  else  so  many  ways  of  trickery, 
so  many  false  lights,  so  many  veils,  so  many  guises,  so  many  illusive 
deceits,  as  are  practiced  in  every  man's  conscience  in  respect  to  his 
own  motives,  his  own  thoughts  and  feelings,  his  own  conduct,  and, 
for  that  matter,  his  own  character.  It  goes  on  silently ;  but  at  times 
it  intermits.  There  are  days  in  which  the  obscurations  are  greater 
than  the  disclosures.  There  are  moments  of  reaction  and  consequent 
better  resolutions.  But,  after  all,  "  the  heart  is  deceitful  above  all 
things,  and  desperately  wicked:  who  can  know  it  ?"  The  more  a  man 
looks  into  his  heart,  the  more  acute  he  is  as  a  moral  anatomist,  and 
the  more  he  becomes  acquainted  with  his  fellow-men,  the  moi'e  does 
he  become  sure  of  the  existence  in  men  of  an  intense  and  almost  in- 
eradicable tendency  to  deceive  themselves  in  respect  to  their  actions, 
their  motives,  their  conduct,  and  their  character. 

Xow,  one  of  the  very  first  steps  which  indicate  a  true  moral 
growth,  a  real  divine  nature  begun  in  us,  is  a  childlike  simplicity  in 
recognizing  just  what  we  are,  and  just  what  we  have  thought,  or  felt, 
or  done :  no  excuse,  no  special  pleading,  no  extenuation^  no  soften- 


36  TEE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION. 

ing  language,  no  glozing  sentimentality  that  weighs  against  positive 
transgression  so  many  supposititious  excellences.  Men's  faults  lie 
like  reptiles — like  toads,  like  lizards,  like  serpents ;  and  what  if  there 
is  over  them  the  evening  sky,  lit  with  glory,  and  all  aglow  ?  All  the 
gorgeousness  of  the  departing  day,  shining  down  on  a  reptile,  leaves 
it  a  reptile  still.  Men  think,  "  I  am  generous ;  I  am  full  of  fine  feel- 
ings ;  I  am  endowed  with  superior  taste  ;"  hut  what  of  that  ?  Down 
in  the  very  thicket ;  down  where  men  do  not  love  often  to  go — there 
their  faults  lie  nestling.  There  are  hitter  hatreds,  there  are  avenging 
thoughts,  coiled  like  rattlesnakes — only  they  do  not  sound  any  alarm 
— to  strike  with  poisoned  fangs  and  wreak  their  vengeance.  There  are 
knotted  lies  ;  there  are  vanities  that  have  sucked  up  the  very  marrow 
of  a  strong  manhood ;  there  are  lusts ;  there  are  gi-eedy  desires ;  there 
are  intense,  longing,  yea  murdering  avarices,  that  sit  like  juggling 
gods  of  which  men  are  idolaters.  There  they  are ;  and  what  do  men 
say  ?  "  My  feelings  are  genial.  My  disposition  is  amiable.  I  have 
some  faults,  to  he  sure;  but  then,  I  am  really  generous  and  kind.  I 
am  not  living  for  myself."  These  sunset  emotions,  these  gorgeous 
celestial  sentiments,  shine  down  upon  them  as  the  evening  sun  shines 
on  toads  and  snakes.  Are  they  less  toads  because  all  is  roseate  around 
about  them,  and  because  they  belong  to  this  state  of  nature,  and  are 
part  and  parcel  of  this  globe  ? 

It  is  well  for  men  to  reckon  with  themselves  sternly.  If  you 
reckon  with  yourself  half  as  sternly  as  you  do  with  your  fellow-men, 
you  make  a  great  stride  toward  the  right.  For  men  to  reckon  with 
themselves,  simply  speaking  what  is,  and  desiring  to  sjjeak  what  is — 
that  of  itself  is  a  great  step  in  advance.  But  to  confess  these  things 
before  God — this  requires  self-knowledge.  It  requires  a  fortitude  of 
introspection,  it  requires  great  honesty  and  honor  of  nature,  to  come 
to  so  clear  a  vieAV  as  to  go  before  God  with  your  experiences  in  detail 
from  day  to  day,  and  make  confession  of  them,  laying  them  down  at 
his  feet,  and  saying,  "  These  are  the  experiences  of  this  day."  Oh  ! 
how  great  is  the  strife  and  struggle  before  one  can  do  that!  How 
our  best  feelings  interfere  with  it!  How  the  whole  mind  shows 
itself  to  be  a  kingdom  in  disorder  under  such  a  course  !  And,  al- 
though this  duty,  as  I  shall  show,  is  one  of  the  noblest  of  duties,  and 
is  in  its  results  one  of  transcendent  remuneration,  yet,  the  moment  a 
man  attempts  to  be  honest  with  himself  in  respect  to  his  moral  cha- 
racter, and  to  make  confession  before  God,  how  every  thing  that  is  in 
him  rises  up  against  him  ! 

First  and  foremost  is  reason.  His  reason,  suborned  by  his  feel- 
ings, refuses  to  investigate.  His  reason  returns  to  him  false  reports. 
His  reason,  unlike  many  dishonest  officials  who  return  overcharged 
bills,  returns  undercharged  bills.     If  there  be  a  transgression,  and  the 


TEE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION.  37 

man  looks  at  it,  it  is  maximum ;  but  reason,  suborned  and  acting 
under  the  influence  of  the  feelings,  returns  minimum.  Send  out 
reason  to  insiject  and  briug  in  statistics  of  wrong.  How  seldom  is 
it  that  a  man's  reason  is  true  to  its  trust,  and  reports  to  him  what  he 
really  is,  and  Avhat  is  the  magnitude  of  that  which  is  wrong  in  him. 

Ah!  the  bank  is  breaking  away.  A  craw-fish  has  pierced  it.  The 
stream  is  working,  and  M'orkiug,  and  working.  The  engineer  is  sent 
up  to  see  if  all  is  safe.  *He  sees  that  a  stream  is  running  through  the 
bank,  big  as  his  finger.  He  looks  at  it,  and  waits  to  see  if  the  stream 
enlarges.  Soon  it  is  as  big  as  his  two  fingers.  He  waits  a  little 
longer,  and  it  is  as  big  as  his  hand.  It  is  wearing  on  either  side  the 
opening,  and  the  waters  are  beginning  to  find  it  out,  and  slowly  they 
swirl  on  the  inside  toward  this  point.  It  will  not  be  many  hours 
before  the  bank  will  be  so  torn  that  it  will  give  way,  and  the  flood 
will  jDour  through  the  crevasse.  But  the  engineer  goes  back  and  says, 
"Well,  there  was  a  little  rill  there.  But  it  was  a  very  beautiful 
place :  I  never  saw  a  prettier  bank  than  that.  The  trees  that  grow 
in  the  neighborhood  are  superb  ;  and  the  shrubbery  there  is  very 
fragrant  and  charming ;  and  the  moisture  which  finds  its  way  through 
the  bank  seems  to  nourish  all  vegetation  near  it."  "  "Well,  but  the 
hreaJc!  How  about  that?"  "It  was  something  of  a  break;  but,  as 
I  was  saying,  it  is  a  beautiful  spot.  And  right  there  is  a  fine  planta- 
tion ;  and  the  man  that  owns  it — "  "  But  how  about  the  crevasse  .^"  . 
''Yes,  there  was  a  little  crevasse;  but,  as  I  was  saying,  all  things 
conspire  to  make  it  a  lovely  scene."  What  kind  of  a  report  is  that, 
of  an  engineer  sent  out  to  investigate,  when  it  is  a  question  of  im- 
l^ending  ruin  ?  What  kind  of  a  report  is  that,  when  the  elements  are 
at  work  which  will  soon  launch  desolation  on  the  neighborhood  ? 

Send  the  engineer  Reason  into  a  man's  soul,  and  ask  it  to  report 
concerning  the  habit  of  drinking  in  the  man.  It  comes  back  and 
saj'S,  "  Oh  !  Avell,  he  takes  a  little  for  the  oft  infirmities  of  his  stomach; 
but  he  is  a  good  fellow,  he  is  a  strong  man,  and  his  heart  is  in  the 
right  place."  "  But  what  about  his  hahitf''  "  He  takes  a  little  now 
and  then  ;  but,  as  I  was  saying,  he  is  a  generous  fellow.  If  you  had 
heard  of  his  kindnesses  to  that  family  when  they  were  in  distress — " 
"  But  what  about  his  habit .?"  "  There  is  a  little  trickling  occasion- 
ally ;  but,  as  I  was  saying,  he  is  a  noble  man.  I  was  very  much 
pleased  -with  his  conversation.  He  is  a  man  that  has  many  excel- 
lent things  about  him."  So  reason,  like  •  the  engineer,  comes  back, 
putting  the  best  face  on  things,  and  telling  the  most  plausible  story, 
hiding,  palliating,  deceiving.  And  one  of  the  things  that  a  man 
must  do  before  he  can  confess,  is  to  train  his  understanding  to  make 
a  fair,  clean,  white  report  on  the  state  of  facts. 

But,  when    a  man's  understaudiug   is  willing  to  tell  the   truth, 


38  THE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION. 

and  the  question  comes  up,  "Will  you  recognize  your  sin- 
fulness ?  will  you  recognize  your  wrong  in  this  faculty  or 
that  laculty,  in  this  course  of  business  or  that,  in  this  ethical 
dilemma  or  that?"  how  is  it  with  his  pride  ?  Pride  is  said  to 
he  the  corner-stone  of  honor  in  a  man.  Men  often  say  that  pride 
is  a  great  misfortune  in  men.  Yes,  perverted  i^vide  is  ;  but  pride 
in  its  original  function,  in  that  for  which  God  created  it — without 
that  no  man  can  be  a  man.  It  is  the  sense  of  that  which  is  noble 
and  just  and  right  in  the  making  up  of  a  man's  own  self  It  is  that 
which  gives  a  man  fortitude  to  stand  by  his  knowledge,  though  it 
costs  him  something  to  do  it.  It  is  that  which  enlarges  continually 
the  sense  of  what  is  becoming  in  a  man.  It  is  the  vicegerent  of 
God.  We  are  told  that  conscience  is  God's  vicegerent.  Then  he 
has  two ;  because  pride  is  another !  It  stands  to  tell  him  what  is 
Godlike  ;  what  will  build  him  up  in  stature,  in  strength  ;  and  what 
will  make  him  more  and  more  a  man.  And  yet,  pride  perverted 
— how  does  it  dominate  for  evil  in  the  soul !  How,  above  almost  all 
other  feelings,  does  it  resist  the  recognition  of  wrong  !  How,  on  a 
proud  man,  do  the  evidences  of  sin  beat  as  hailstones  on  a  slate  roof, 
and  never  penetrate  !  How  does  a  strong  man  refuse  to  admit  that 
he  has  done  wrong  !  Why,  do  not  many  of  you  know  some  persons 
whose  pride  is  of  such  a  nature  that  when  they  do  a  thing,  they  think 
their  doing  it  is  evidence  that  it  is  right?  Once  let  a  person  do  a 
thing,  and  it  is  the  "I"  of  a  god.  Zdid  it,  and  therefore  it  is  right 
— therefore  it  is  not  wrong.  Pride  tends  to  make  people  think  that 
a  thing  is  right,  by  its  own  peculiar  nature.  When  reason  admits 
that  a  thing  is  wrong,  pride  is  unwilling  to  admit  it.  Do  you  not 
know  a  great  many  proud  men  ?  They  assert  a  thing  in  the  morning 
that  is  notoriously  incorrect ;  they  are  expostulated  with  by  the  one 
at  the  other  end  of  the  table  (whom  God  set  to  correct  the  faults  of 
men),  and  they  deny  but  that  they  are  right ;  and  yet,  in  the  course 
of  the  day,  it  comes  out  that  they  are  wrong.  How  many  men  under 
such  circumstances  can  go  back  in  the  evening,  and  say,  quietly,  "  The 
thing  that  I  said  in  the  morning,  on  further  knowledge,  I  found  to 
be  incorrect — I  was  wrong  "  ?  A  man  does  a  thing  that  is  hard  and 
oppressive,  and  declares  that  it  is  not  wrong ;  and  yet,  upon  after-re- 
flection, he  finds  that  it  was  wrong.  Have  you  never  seen  proud  men 
who  in  cases  like  this  utterly  refused  to  admit  that  they  did  wrong  ? 
Such  men  will,  however,  attempt  to  make  it  uj)  by  extra  kindnesses 
in  other  things.  A  proud  man  has  crushed  some  one's  feelings.  If 
he  is  a  tender-hearted  man,  it  may  be  that  he  will  confess,  though  it 
is  more  likely  that  he  will  not.  But  you  may  expect  to  have  a  good 
time  for  a  week  afterwards  !  He  will  tiy  to  make  compensation,  as 
it  were,  for  the  wrong  he  has  done  you ;  but  he  will  not  confess.   Why, 


TEE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION.  39 

the  month  of  pride  has  the  lock-jaw  when  it  is  a  question  of  coufoss- 
inor  wrono;  ! 

And  so  there  is  this  battle  with  pride.  As  the  understanding- 
lias  to  be  subdued  by  simple  honesty  and  truthfulness,  there  is 
this  battle  of  life  with  men  in  the  matter  of  pride,  which  has  to  be  sub- 
dued ;  so  that,  when  a  man  has  done  wrong,  pride  itself  shall  show,  by 
all  that  is  right  and  becoming  in  manhood,  that  the  wrong  must  have 
its  right  name  put  upon  it,  and  that  there  must  be  a  confession  to  God 
of  it. 

Then  there  is  that  protean  influence  of  vanity.  When  men  have 
done  wrong,  they  instantly  say,  "  Does  any  body  know  it  ?"  If  it  is 
not  known,  they  are  not  much  disturbed  ;  but  if  men  do  know  it, 
the  question  is,  "What  do  they  think?  What  is  the  impression  on 
the  community  ?  What  do  my  friends  think  ?"  Vanity  teaches  men 
to  be  more  thoughtful  of  the  opinions  of  their  fellow-men  than  of  the 
opinions  of  God  himself.  And  there  is  a  lack  of  confession  in  many 
persons  whose  conscience  Avould  lead  them  to  confess,  and  whose  rea- 
son would  perhaps  help  them  to  confess,  because  there  stands  vanity, 
which  is  wounded  so  easily,  and  by  so  many  imaginary  things,  that 
they  are  utterly  unwilling  to  have  that  which  is  imperfect  in  them 
supposed  to  be  imi^erfect  by  others,  and  are  forever  resorting  to 
guises  and  deceits  to  hide  their  faults. 

Ah !  Is  there  any  thing  like  vanity  ?  Yes,  you  see  it  in  the 
world.  Does  not  God  create  woman  bountifully  beautiful,  adorned 
most  when  unadorned  ?  And  yet,  is  it  not  the  study  of  fishion  to 
make  woman  execrable  in  every  thing  that  belongs  really  to  taste  ? 
Is  it  not  the  study  of  fashion  to  disfigure  her  foot,  to  abominably  dis- 
figure her  waist,  and  to  make  her  head  a  walking  laughing-stock? 
Is  it  not  the  supreme  study  of  fashion  to  make  the  Avardrobe  hide  that 
which  is  comely,  and  disfigure  that  which  is  beautiful  ?  Fashion  is 
a  supreme  ass  !  It  is  stupid — ineffiibly  stupid.  It  is  hateful,  because 
in  the  kingdom  of  beauty  Avhatever  mars  beauty  is  hateful.  It  is  con- 
tinually marring  and  disfiguring  beauty.  I  am  not  now  on  a  tirade 
against  fashion.  I  have  long  ago  given  up  the  expectation  of  mak- 
ing any  impression  on  that.    I  only  speak  of  it  by  way  of  illustration. 

Now,  that  which  fashion  is  doing  outside,  vanity  is  doing  inside. 
It  makes  homely  that  which  God  made  beautiful.  It  distorts  that 
which  God  made  symmetrical.  It  renders  uncomely  everything  that 
God  made  comely.  Inside  it  is  dressing  the  heart  for  all  the  world 
just  as  outside  fashion  is  dressing  the  body.  And  can  any  thing  be 
more  ridiculous  than  that  ?  When  men  have  done  wroiig,  and  they 
attempt  to  confess,  here  sits  vanity  obstinately  refusing  to  help.  It 
is  to  be  fought  and  subdued  before  one  who  has  sinned  can  confess 
before  God  simply  and  truly. 


40  THE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION. 

And  even  conscience  joins  in  this  bad  confederacy  of  evil  with- 
in. For,  how  many  times  are  men  ready  to  confess  their  wrong 
before  God,  when  conscience  says,  "  Stop  !  stop  !  insincere  hypocrite, 
stoj) !  Did  you  not  confess  your  wrong  once  before  ?  and  twice  ? 
and  tlirice?  and  did  yoxi  not  go  and  commit  the  same  offence  again? 
If  you  go  to  God  now,  will  it  not  be  a  mockery?  Do  not  you  know 
that  if  you  confess  it,  you  will  do  it  again  ?  Do  not  you  know  tliat 
you  have  cherished  bitter,  malign  thoughts,  and  that  you  have  given 
expression  to  them  ?  Do  not  you  know  that  you  did  it  last  Aveek, 
and  then  went  and  cried  about  it,  and  made  confession  before  God  ? 
Do  you  not  know  that  you  blasted  your  neiglibor's  reputation,  and  tat- 
tled concerning  him,  and  rolled  hatred  as  a  sweet  morsel  under  your 
tongue,  and  shot  venomous  arrows  that  hit  every  body  within  your 
reach  ?  Now  your  conscience  is  stirred  up,  and  you  want  to  go  to 
God,  and  get  on  your  knees,  and  confess  your  sins,  and  ask  God  to 
help  you  to  overcome  your  malign  disposition.  Do  not  you  know 
j^erfectly  well  that  you  will  repeat  the  Avrong  ?  and  what  is  the 
use  of  making  a  hypocrite  of  yourself?"  And  so  conscience  joins 
this  army  of  bad  lawyers  in  the  soul,  and  says  to  the  soul,  "Do 
not  confess  your  sins." 

Worldly  prudence  says,  "  Let  well  enough  alone.  Try  to  do  as 
well  as  you  can  in  the  time  to  come ;  but  as  to  the  past,  do  not 
meddle  with  that.  Ah !"  says  worldly  prudence  to  men,  Avhen  they 
attempt  to  confess  their  sins  to  God,  "  do  not  meddle  with  nostrums. 
If  you  are  sick,  live  better,  live  under  the  control  of  better  laAvs, 
and  do  not  tamper  Avith  remedies  that  Avill  only  exacerbate  your 
symptoms,  and  bring  on  a  worse  state  of  things." 

And  so  every  thing  in  the  soul  that  is  noble  and  generous  enters 
into  this  bad  alliance  to  make  it  difficult  for  a  man  to  know  Avhat  he 
is,  and  how  bad  his  disposition  is,  and  how  hateful  sin  is,  and  to  keep 
him  from  coming  before  God,  honorable,  truthful,  simple,  and  saying, 
"  I  have  sinned  against  heaven  in  this  thing,  and  in  thy  sight,  and  I 
am  not  worthy  of  sonship." 

And  yet,  my  Christian  brethren,  is  there  any  thing  in  this  world 
that  is  essentially  nobler,  Avlien  one  has  done  Avrong,  than  a  prompt, 
clear,  open  recognition  of  the  Avrong,  sorroAV  for  it,  confession  of  it  to 
God,  and  renunciation  of  it? 

I  do  not  mean  merely  that  it  is  noble.  I  mean  that  it  gives  a 
man  a  certain  joy  that  he  can  have  in  no  other  way.  The  trouble  of 
expounding  it  is  that  the  analogies  are  very  few.  And  yet  I  can 
perhaps  take  you  back  to  your  own  history,  if  it  has  been  like  mine, 
and  give  you  some  faint  reminiscences. 

Do  not  you  remember  that  you,  when  a  boy,  tangled  yourself  in 
disobediences,  and  that,  with  growing  impunity  and  child-uglinesses, 


THE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION.  41 

yoii  treasured  up  for  yourself  wratli  against  the  day  of  wrath  ?  Do 
you  not  remember  how  at  length  you  felt  that  it  could  not  go  on 
much  longer — that  the  little  pilferings,  the  truancies,  the  prevar- 
ications, the  violations  of  laws,  of  which  you  had  been  guilty,  must 
soon  bring  down  retribution  ujjon  your  head?  And  do  you  not  re- 
member that,  by-and-by,  caught  in  some  flagrant  act,  you  were 
seized,  and  that  then  your  day  of  judgment  came  to  you  ?  There 
Avas  the  parental  inquisition  ;  and  there  was  the  liorror  between 
the  conviction  and  the  execution  of  the  sentence,  which  used  to  be 
worse  to  me  than  the  sentence  itself!  And  then  there  was  the  fla- 
gellation. And  in  my  case,  after  I  had  been  soundly  whij^ped,  feel- 
ing with  every  stroke  that  I  deserved  it,  and  I  had  confessed,  and 
made  a  clean  breast  of  the  whole  matter,  oh  !  what  a  breath  I  took 
after  it !  I  did  feel  so  good,  I  had  such  a  feeling  of  kindness  gush- 
ing up  from  within  me,  that  I  wanted  to  kiss  my  father  and  mother  ! 
I  felt  toward  the  very  cat  and  dog  like  a  difierent  creature  !  There 
was  nothing  that  I  did  not  want  to  do  good  to.  What  was  the  mat- 
ter ?  What  had  taken  place  in  me  ?  The  strain  was  over,  the  revul- 
sion had  taken  place ;  but  that  was  not  all.  This  likewise  liad  taken 
place :  I  had  acted  worthily  of  the  very  law  of  my  natui-e.  .  The  evil 
course  that  I  had  gone  through  was  a  process  of  unchording,  and  the 
final  inquisition  and  settlement  was  really  bringing  me  up  to  con- 
cert pitch ;  so  that  when  they  sounded  on  me,  I  j)layed  in  tune  all 
through  ! 

Where  a  man  that  thinks  wrong,  and  feels  wrong,  and  acts 
wrong,  and  whose  mind  works  morbidly  against  moral  laws, 
which  are  as  really  natural  laws  as  the  appetites  of  the  body  ;  where 
a  man  who  has  been  in  a  wicked  state  for  a  long  time  comes  out 
of  it,  by  renunciation,  by  a  clear  settlement  throughout,  there  is  ex- 
hilaration, there  is  spiritual  nobility,  there  is  a  sense  of  rectitude,  of 
strength,  and  of  afliancing  to  God.  A  man  that  has  done  wrong,  and 
forsaken  it,  and  gone  above  it,  and  repented  of  it,  and  soai-ed  toward 
God  and  toward  his  fellow-men,  feels  more  like  a  child  than  it  is  pos- 
sible for  him  to  feel  under  any  other  circumstances. 

Do  not  t^U  me  that  confession  is  all  a  degrading  thing.  Do  not 
tell  me  that  it  is  all  a  painful  thing.  It  is  jiainful  as  long  as  you 
strive  against  it ;  it  is  rendered  painful  by  many  of  the  lacerations  of 
expiation ;  but,  after  all,  through  confession  of  sin  and  renunciation 
we  come  to  an  atmosphere  in  which  w^e  breatlie  the  very  breath  of 
heaven  itself.  Xo  one  who  has  done  wrong  can  feel  so  ha^jpy  as  he 
who  has  come  out  of  it,  and  has  not  covered  it  up,  but  has  forsaken  it, 
and  confessed  it,  and  risen  beyond  it.     That  is  the  royal  way. 

Some  of  the  highest  and  most  noble  experiences  that  men  have 
in  this  world,  are  those  that  they  have  when  they  have  overcome  a 


42  THE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION. 

wrong,  clearly,  avowedly,  and  are  conscious  in  their  whole  being  that 
they  stand  beyond  it ;  when  they  have  confessed  it  to  God  and  for- 
saken it ;  when  they  have  gained  a  victory  over  their  own  disposi- 
tion. A  victory  inside  of  us  is  ten  thousand  times  more  glorious  than 
any  victory  that  can  be  outside  of  us.  It  is  declared  that  "  a  man 
that  ruleth  his  spirit  is  greater  than  he  that  taketh  a  city."  A  man 
that  subdues  himself  is  better  than  a  man  that  subdues  empires  to 
himself. 

Dear  friends,  you  that  would  enter  a  Christian  life,  do  not  let  me 
deceive  you  by  the  descriptions  that  I  sometimes  give  of  these 
ways.  They  are  vmys  of  pleasantness.,  and  they  are  jyaths  of  peace. 
Do  not  let  me  give  you  to  think  that  to  be  a  Christian  is  to  walk  in  a 
sphere  of  morality  slightly  advanced  beyond  that  in  -which  you 
have  been  walking  in  past  days.  But  let  me  tell  you  that  a  true 
Christian  is  one  that  takes  the  character  of  Christ,  the  law  of  God, 
as  his  model,  and  attempts  to  conform  his  disposition  thereto,  what- 
ever that  disposition  may  be.  Every  man's  problem  in  life  is  to  take 
the  disposition  which  God  gave  him,  and  subdue  every  thought  and 
feeling  to  the  spirit  of  God.  That  conflict  may  be  a  long  one.  In 
some  persons  it  is  a  conflict  which  has  a  series  of  progressive  victo- 
ries. To-day  it  is  a  victory  in  one  point,  and  to-morrow  it  is  a  victo- 
ry in  another  j^oint.  It  is  always  attaining  /  so  that  with  the  Apos- 
tle the  true  Christian  can  say,  "  I  count  not  that  I  have  attained ;  I 
have  not  subdued  every  faculty  and  every  sentiment ;  I  have  not 
brought  all  my  powers  to  love  spontaneously  and  intensely  the  thing 
which  is  just,  and  true,  and  jiure,  and  right,  and  noble,  and  best;  I 
have  not  yet  become  such  a  Christian  that  I  feed  upon  the  bread  of 
heaven  ;  but,  forgetting  the  things  that  are  behind,  I  press  forward 
toward  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  my  high  calling  in  Christ  Jesus." 
This  is  a  true  Christian  life. 

Talk  about  portait-painters !  Not  Elliott,  not  Page,  not  Hicks, 
not  any  man  that  men  talk  about,  is  to  be  compared  with  the  man 
that  paints  his  own  portrait  on  the  soul.  Talk  about  sculptoi'S  !  Not 
one  of  them  has  so  grand  a  task  entrusted  to  his  hand  as  you,  if  you 
are  carving  the  immortal  features  of  Christ  Jesus  in  your  soul.  Talk 
about  architects  !  Noble  men  they  are,  of  noble  function  ;  but  ye 
are  building  the  temple  of  the  living  God  in  yourselves,  and  every 
stone  is  an  immortal  stone  laid  upon  that  foundation,  Jesus  Christ 
himself.  You  are  preparing  to  rear  a  structure  more  beautiful 
and  more  grand  than  ever  the  sun  shone  upon  in  these  lower  spheres. 
You  are  building  for  the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  And,  after  all,  though 
it  seems  dark  and  gloomy,  this  work,  this  soul-conflict,  this  soul-sor- 
row, this  soul-victory,  in  its  interior  experiences  and  in  its  final  results, 
is  the  noblest  of  all  the  experiences  that  mortal  life  can  render  you. 


THE  MOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION.  43 

Do  not  be  afraid  to  confess  your  siu,  and,  above  all,  do  not  be  afraid 
to  confess  your  sin  to  Jesus.  If  you  are  afraid  of  God — thougli  you 
ouoht  not  to  be;  for  Christ  is  the  true  reflection,  as  it  were,  of  our 
God — but  if  you  are  afraid  of  that  which  you  have  been  taught  to 
tliiuk  of  as  God,  then  turn  to  Jesus.  It  is  easy  for  sorrow  to  confess 
to  love. 

When  the  stern  father  overtakes  the  child  that  is  in  fault,  and 
anger  is  on  his  brow,  anger  also  is  in  the  heart  of  the  child  ;  and  the 
intense  firmness  of  the  father  kindles  an  intense  obstinacy  in  the 
child.  He  will  not  bend,  nor  break,  nor  confess.  But  when  the  sun 
goes  down,  and  the  pain  is  over,  and  the  obdurate  child  is  gathered  to 
the  household  in  the  evening,  and  twilight  conies  with  all  its  soften- 
ing influences,  and  he  is  alone  with  his  mother,  who  wipes  the  tears 
that  she  can  not  keep  from  her  eyes,  and  loves  him,  and  puts  her  arm 
fondly  about  him,  and  only  looks  at  him,  and  utters  no  word  of  re- 
proach, oh  !  how  does  the  generous  child,  with  a  turbulent  tide  of 
feeling,  burst  out  into  teai's,  and  say,  "  Mother,  I  did  do  it — I  did  do 
it !"  And  what  the  father  had  failed  to  extract,  the  mother's  look 
brought. 

If  for  justice'  sake,  if  for  fear  of  the  law,  you  will  not  confess 
your  sin,  and  forsake  it,  look  unto  the  love  of  Jesus,  the  tenderness 
of  Jesus.  "Now  I  beseech  you,"  says  the  Apostle,  "by  the  meek- 
ness and  gentleness  of  Christ ;"  and  I  beseech  every  one  of  you  that 
has  done  wrong,  and  that  is  doing  wrong,  to  repent.  And  if  you 
would  make  it  easy,  oh !  turn  to  the  bosom  of  Christ,  let  him  put 
his  arm  about  you,  and  let  him  look  upon  you  with  those  sorrowing 
eyes  with  which  he  looked  upon  Jerusalem  when  he  said,  "  How 
often  would  I  have  gathered  you  as  a  hen  gathereth  her  chickens 
under  her  wings,  but  ye  would  not." 


PRATER  BEFORE  THE  SERMO]^. 

O  Lord  our  God,  we  do  not  praise  thee  worthily.  We  do  not  understand  thee.  Our  thoughts 
are  fashionino;  thee  like  unto  ourselves  ;  and  when  we  l5ehold  thee,  it  is  not  as  thou  art.  Our 
imagination  is  both  prophet  and  interpreter.  We  shall  yet  stand  before  thee,  and  see  thee  as  thou 
art  f  but  now  we  see  thee  through  a  glass  darkly,  and  our  best  vision  is,  after  all,  but  a  fragment. 
The  highest  which  we  can  imderstand  is  but  the  spark  of  that  great  orb  which  thou  art.  And  all 
those  alVections  which  we  cull  from  the  best  men,  and  purify  in  imagination,  aud  ascribe  to  thee 
in  a  wider  range  and  in  a  grander  power— what  are  these  as  intei-preters  of  thy  real  nature  ?  So 
vast  is  the  volume  of  thy  being,  that  we  can  not  by  any  measure  understand  thee  as  thou  art.  But 
as  the  stars  lead  us  ;  as,  though  we  can  not  see  what  they  are.  we  follow  them,  safely  crossing  the 
trackless  deep  ;  as  they  guide  us,  thouL'h  they  are  so  far  away  that  only  something  of  their  light 
falls  upon  our  eye— so.  Sun  of  Righteousness,  we  follow  thee,  becauseof  thy  light,  and  not  because 
we  have  risen  to  the  orb  of  thy  being  with  a  full  understanding. 

We  rtyoice  that  thou  art  so  great.  If  thou  wert  a  God  that  our  thought  couW  encircle  and 
compass,  how  small  woaldst  thou  be  !  And  because  thou  art  always  more  than  our  conceptions 
make  thee  to  be,  as  thou  art  exceeding  abundantly  greater  than  we  can  think,  thou  art  the  God 
that  we  desire.  Thou  art  glorious  in  holiness.  Thou  art  fearful  in  praises.  If  they  that  are 
about  thee  can  behold  somethine  of  thine  cxcfUent  glory— if  heaven  is  full  of  testimonies  of  their 
pleasure  that  are  in  the  sweet  delight  of  thy  presence— if  in  that  glorious  tropic  of  thy  purity  all 
the  force  of  thy  nature  is  developing  tlie  riches  of  theirs— and  if  they,  single  or  banded,  are  prais- 
ing thee,  speaking  evermore  the  lancua^e.  not  of  duty,  but  of  ecstacy  and  love,  and  of  neces- 
sity are  pourinsout  their  joy  which  thou  art  creating,  how  grand  is  that  sound  !  how  glorious  is 
that  music !  and  how  little  do  we  kaoW  of  it,  whose  best  thoughts  trickle  in  us  as  the  rills  ia  the 


44 


THE  NOBILITY  OF  CONFESSION. 


moTintnins  that  are  not  yet  largo  enough  for  streams  or  rivers  t  And  yet,  these  thoughts  of  ours, 
uniiiiportant  as  they  now  seem,  shall  ere  loDg  roll  end  sound  as  mighty  thunders  in  heaven. 

It  is  svt'cet  to  praise  thee,  though  we  are  afar  oil'.  It  is  good  to  draw  near  to  thee,  though  we 
are  so  imperfect,  both  in  our  ov.'n  character  and  in  our  conception  of  thine.  We  have  taken  more 
internal  delight,  we  have  had  stronger  joys  and  more  cleansing  ones,  in  our  communion  with 
thee,  than  in  all  the  things  which  we  know  upon  earth  beside. 

How  shall  we  praise  thee  for  thy  condescension  ?  How  shall  we  speak  thy  friendship,  that  so 
walks  forth  from  out  of  its  very  sphere,  and  again,  and  forever  in  increasing  circles,  incarnates 
itself,  bows  the  heavens  and  comes  down  to  earth,  and  maintains  its  hiuniUty  for  man's  sake  ? 
How  wonderful  is  that  patience,  how  gracious  and  tender  is  that  love,  by  which  thou  dost  nourish, 
and  carry,  and  forgive,  and  patiently  bear  with  the  sin  and  imperfection  of  all  the  wretched  ones 
upon  the  earth  1  For  wickedness  hath  its  nest.  It  spreads  abroad  its  dark  wings,  and  broods 
over  desolation  ;  and  sorrow  and  trouble  ha\e  filled  the  ages.  And  still,  as  men  pour  wine  forth 
from  a  goblet,  so  is  trouble  poured  forth  from  the  lap  of  earth.  Time  is  but  the  record  of  sor- 
row, imperfection,  and  misery.  And  thou  hast  borne  it,  and  art  bearing  it.  Thou  art  cari'ying 
thy  creatures,  and  yet  thou  art  a  sacrifice — yet  thou  art  giving  thy  life. 

We  can  not  enter  into  the  thought  of  this  high  mystery  of  thy  ts  ay  of  living  •without  rebuke 
of  our  own  selfish,  self-seeking,  and  hidulgeut  lives.  What  in  us  is  there  that  answers  to  our 
calling  in  thee  ? 

O  Lord  our  God,  grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  we  may  have  this  knowledge  of  God,  and 
that  we  may  find  in  ourselves  the  beginnings  of  that  self-denial,  that  meekness,  that  forbearance 
for  others,  that  forgiving  spirit,  carrying  healing  with  forgiveness,  which  belongs  to  the  divine 
nature.  Grant  that  we  may  be,  in  ourselves  and  toward  our  fellows,  what  thou  art,  and  what 
thou  art  toward  us.  We  not  only  pray  that  thou  wilt  forgive  our  sins— which  thou  dost  forgive 
already,  or  ever  we  speak  or  ask — but  we  pray,  above  all,  that  thou  wilt  lift  us  above  evil.  Bear 
us  up  in  thine  hands,  lest  at  any  time  we  dash  our  foot  against  a  stone.  Bear  us  up,  that  we  may 
not  be  carried  away  captive  by  that  vanity  which  snares  us,  or  spins  its  films  on  every  side,  and 
catches  us  as  the  spider  catches  insects  in  summer  upon  the  web,  and  would  devour  them.  Lift 
us  up  so  that  pride  shall  not  have  dominion  over  us,  that  we  may  walk  in  a  humble  and  gentle 
spirit.  So  lift  us  up  that  we  shall  not  fall  into  the  slough  of  passion.  So  lift  us  up  that  weehall 
not  be  given  into  the  jaws  and  devouring  appetites  of  avarice. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  we  may  not  walk  in  the  way  of  selfishness.  May  we  seek  to  be 
as  the  King's  sons,  to  be  clothed  with  all  tlie  garments  of  the  Lord,  and  to  know  how  to  put  on 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  May  we  know  how  to  put  on  his  garments  of  humiliation.  May  we 
know  how  to  wear  his  suflering.  May  we  know  how,  too,  in"  hours  apart,  when  we  stand  upon 
the  mount  of  transfiguration,  to  put  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  be  clothed  with  garments 
of  light,  whiter  than  any  fuller's  soap  can  white  them.  Grant  that  we  may  have  an  abiding 
faith  in  that  triumph  which  we  shall  have  in  the  kingdom  of  God's  glory. 

Have  compassion,  we  pray  thee,  on  all  that  are"  around  about  us  to-day;  upon  all  that  are 
gathered  together  by  various  wants  and  motives  in  thy  sanctuary.  May  they  all,  with  sweet 
surprise,  find  the  gate  of  heaven  open  to  them.  And  out  of  it  may  there  rush  forth  those  sweet 
currents,  as  from  the  garden  of  the  Lord,  that  shall  refresh  every  weary  sense.  Lord,  if  thy 
grave  was  in  the  garden,  where  are  thy  living  footsteps  ?  Thou  art  walking  among  flowers. 
Send  some  of  them  down  upon  us.  Unlanguis'hing,  unfading,  immortal,  are  they ;  v/hile  those 
which  we  pluck,  earth-made,  perish  in  the  itsing.  Give  us  some  of  thy  heavenly  fruits  to-day,  for 
we  are  very  weak  from  hunger  ;  and  some  of  that  living  water,  that  we  may  drink  and  not  thirst 
again.  Give  us  some  of  the  music  of  joy,  and  the  living  joy  of  repentance,  and  that  repentance 
which  IS  of  generosity  and  of  life. 

And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  to-day  lift  us  so  far  above  all  common  thoughts,  com- 
mon cares,  and  common  experiences,  that  we  may  tuke  one  royal  view  of  the  heavenly  city ;  one 
clear  and  soul-comforting  view  of  thee ;  one  view  that  shall  make  us  superior  to  trouble,  and 
sorrow,  and  temptation,  and  all  the  things  that  snare  us  in  life. 

Be  near  to  those  that  bear  heavily  the  burdens  of  life.  Put  underneath  them  thy  strength; 
and  may  men  see  that  by  the  strength  of  God  they  walk.  Be  near  to  all  that  walk  in  a  dark  way. 
Fulfill  to  them  the  promises  made,'and  ten  thousand  times  fulfill.  Let  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  com- 
fort them.  Draw  near  to  all  those  that  are  tempted  more  than  they  are  able  to  bear.  Thou  wert 
able  to  bear  temptation  :  be  the  Captain  of  their  victory.  Draw  near  to  all  those  that  hunger  and 
thirst  after  righteousness.  These  are  thine  own  elect.  They  are  of  thy  very  spirit.  FulflU  thy 
promises  to  them.    Let  them  be  satisfied. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  the  labor  of  our  hands.  Give  us  more  and  more 
fruitful  enterprise  in  doing  good.  May  we  not  feel  that  we  are  the  Lord  God's  heritage,  or  that 
we  walk  superior  to  the  children  of  God  around  about  us.  May  we  go  forth  among  them  as 
among  brethren.  May  we  seek  to  honor  them  as  brother  honors  brother.  May  our  labors  and 
our  ofleriugs  come  up  with  acceptance  before  thee. 

Bless  our  Sabbath-schools  and  Bible  classes.  Bless  those  that  teach,  that  they  may  be  filled 
•nith  the  very  spirit  of  their  Master ;  and  bless  those  that  are  taught,  that  they  may  profit  in  the 
word  of  everlasting  life. 

And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  revive  thy  work  in  this  Church,  in  aU  the  churches 
around  about  us.  and  in  all  this  land. 

And  in  this  great  day  of  strife  and  struggle  which  thou  art  leading  on,  and  which  thou  wilt 
consummate  in  victory,  be  thou  known  among  men,  to  rebuke  wickedness  and  oppression,  and 
all  corruption. 

And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  that  have  vraited  so  long  for  their 
caUing,  may  now  hear  the  voice  of  God.  May  they  come  out  of  superstition  and  ignorance,  and 
out  of  all  crime  and  wickedness. 

And  so  may  the  people  be  exalted  in  righteousness.  So  may  all  flesh  see  thy  salvation. 
Which  we  ask  in  the  name  of  Jesus,  our  Redeemer ;  to  whom,  with  the  Father  and  the  Spirit, 
shall  he  praises  evermore.    Amen. 


IV. 

Self-Coe-teol  Possible  to  All. 


SELF-CONTROL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL. 

SUNDAY    MORNING,    OCTOBER    11,    1868. 


"  And  every  man  tliat  strivetli  for  the  mastery  is  temperate  in  all  things.  Now, 
they  do  it  to  obtain  a  corruptible  crown';  but  we  an  incorruptible." — 1  Cor.  ix.  25. 


Pattl,  brought  up  as  a  Jew,  at  the  feet  of  Gamaliel,  instructed  in 
all  the  narrow,  technical,  professional  literature  of  his  people,  escaped 
entirely  from  it,  and  became  as  unconventional  as  you  can  well  ima- 
gine a  man  to  be.  And  while,  for  strictly  logical  purposes,  in  con- 
structing an  argument  for  his  own  people,  he  drew  his  material 
from  the  Hebrew  Scripture,  on  other  occasions  he  was  accustomed 
to  draw  his  materials  from  whatever  source  soever  they  could  be 
profitably  gained.  He  did  not,  like  modern  soi-disant  imitators  of 
the  disciples,  hesitate  to  introduce  into  his  letters  and  discourses 
things  "  not  proper  for  Sunday,"  and  things  "  not  proper  for  the  pul- 
pit," and  things  "not  proper  for  a  sermon."  Whatever  things  had 
power  in  them  to  make  men  better,  were  proper ;  and  he  took  them 
where  he  found  them.  If  he  went  past  a  temple  where  there  was 
heathen  worship,  he  took  that,  and  straightway  you  shall  find  him 
using  it  as  an  illustration,  and  drawing  from  it  either  inferences  or 
applications  for  the  welfare  of  men.  If  he  went  through  the  street, 
and  it  led  him  near  the  forum,  where  men  were  striving  in  argument 
or  disputation,  he  instantly  appropriated  that  for  an  illustration,  and 
introduced  it  into  his  instruction.  Wherever  there  was  an  armed 
hand,  wherever  there  was  a  skillful  process  in  human  life,  wherever 
men  dug  or  delved  at  foundations,  there  Paul  found  matter  for 
preaching.  The  fact  is,  a  man  with  an  honest  heart,  bent  ui^on  the 
rescue  of  his  fellow-men,  can  not  get  material  that  will  be  amiss  if  lie 
gets  material  tliat  really  makes  men  better. 

The  illustration  of  which  our  text  is  a  part,  is  one  drawn  from  the 
honorary  conflicts  which  took  place  in  the  camps  for  which  Greece 
was  celebrated,  where  wrestlers  or  racers,  as  the  case  might  be,  con- 
tended for  the  wreath — rather  than  for  the  crown,  as  the  text  has  it. 
And  as  the  wreath  was  made  up  of  perishable  materials — laurel  leaves, 


46  SELF-CONTROL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL. 

and  what  not — he  well  says,  "  They  have  a  corruptible  crown — one 
that  withers  and  perishes  ;  hut  Ave  have  a  crown  that  is  incorruptible." 
He  declares  that  men  who  strove  for  these  things  were  "  temperate." 
Now,  the  word  temperance^  under  such  circumstances,  means  self- 
control ;  and  self-control  means  self-denial.  Those  two  words  are 
the  complements  of  each  other.  Where,  in  any  individual's  life,  one 
class  of  faculties  desire,  or  any  faculty  desires,  a  lower  thing,  and  a 
superior  faculty  refuses  it  for  the  sake  of  a  higher  one,  the  lower  fac- 
ulty is  self-denied,  and  the  higher  faculty  controls.  And  so  there  is 
in  every  act  of  self-denial  a  corresponding  act  of  self-control,  as 
there  is  in  every  act  of  self-control  an  opposite  or  antithetical  act  of 
self-denial.  And  the  apostle  declares  that  even  these  athletes,  largely 
made  up  of  heathen  people,  for  the  sake  of  so  small  a  remuneration, 
from  so  slight  a  motive  as  that  of  wearing  a  crown  of  leaves  which 
soon  withered  and  came  to  nothing,  j^racticed  heroic  self-denial.  It 
is  said  that  they  were  "  temperate  in  all  things" — which  was  much  to 
say  in  Rome,  or  in  Corinth,  or  anywhere  in  the  Roman  or  Grecian 
empire,  of  the  brute-men  that  conducted  the  jDleasures  of  society. 

There  is,  then,  in  our  text,  this  contrast  between  the  conduct  of 
Christians  and  the  reasons  of  self-denial  and  self-control  in  them,  and 
the  grounds  or  motives  wliich  lead  to  self-control  in  common  or 
worldly  men.  Wben  men  are  exhorted  to  live  for  the  honor  of 
Christ,  they  often  admit  the  beauty  of  a  Christ-like  life,  but  declare 
that  it  is  beyond  their  power  to  live  such  a  life.  The  force  of  the 
will  is  so  great,  the  force  of  habit  is  so  great,  and  the  force  of  temp- 
tation external  to  themselves,  its  solicitations  and  its  variations,  are 
so  subtle  and  continuous,  that  men  frequently  despond  and  despair  of 
becoming  what  in  some  hours  they  would  fain  be  glad  to  be.  I 
hope  there  are  no  men  who  are  so  bad  that  there  are  not  some 
lustrous  hours  through  which  they  look  to  see  an  ideal  of  life 
better  than  that  which  they  are  following,  and  in  which  they  long 
to  be  something  higher  than  they  are.  But  these  momentaiy  aspira- 
tions are  quenched,  too  often,  by  the  feeling,  "  I  can  not  do  it."  The 
idea  of  repressing  fiery  appetites  ;  the  idea  of  moderation  in  human 
passions  ;  the  conception  of  a  steady  persistence  in  a  regulated  busi- 
ness on  the  part  of  men  who  are  notoriously  irregular ;  the  scrupu- 
lous maintenance  of  fiimess,  of  justice,  of  kindness,  of  social  good- 
will, and  of  benevolent  dispositions  among  one's  fellows — these,  the 
lowest  offices  of  religion,  its  common  and  everyday  life,  seem  to  hun- 
dreds and  thousands  of  men  so  difficult  that  they  are  in  their  thought 
romantic  and  visionary  achievements,  good  to  make  poetry  and  hymns 
of,  but  not  very  easy  to  live  on. 

I  propose  to  show  that  self-control  is  the  common  experience  of 
men,  and  that  Christianity  appeals  to  an  active  possibility,  for  a  pur- 


SELF-CONTROL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL.  47 

pose  far  higher  tlian  that  for  which  meu  usually  employ  self-denial 
and  self-control. 

If  there  is  a  class  of  men  who  are  more  than  any  other  likely 
to  be  wholly  given  up  to  self-indulgence,  to  tlie  impetuous  force 
of  animal  desires,  it  is  the  athletic  class — the  wrestlers  and  the 
jjrize-fighters.  Usually,  the  men  that  betake  themselves  to  such 
occupations  are  physically  organized  with  high  animal  endow- 
ments; and  they  feel  the  pulse  of  animalism  far  more  than  many 
others  do.  And  yet,  for  the  highest  pleasure  in  that  sphere  where 
these  men  live,  they  persuade  themselves  to  practice  extraordi- 
nary self-control.  If  I  were  to  go  down  among  the  men  that  prac- 
tice brutal  pleasures  in  New-York,  and  preach  to  them  a  temperate 
yet  acerb  life,  for  the  sake  of  spiritual  dignity  and  future  remunera- 
tion, they  would  reply,  "  That  will  do  very  well  for  parsons,  but  it 
is  impossible  for  men  like  us." 

Now,  I  say  that  these  very  men,  when  it  is  not  something  spiritual 
to  be  gained,  when  it  is  not  an  incorruptible  but  a  corruptible  motive 
which  actuates  them,  do  practice  an  amomit  of  self-denial  and  self- 
control  which  is  far  more  than  is  necessary  to  make  them  eminent 
Christian  men.  Did  you  ever  read — you  might  have  read  worse 
things — the  history  of  the  training  of  men  for  prize-fights  ?  I  have 
read  a  great  many,  and  have  studied  them.  They  are  taken  weeks, 
and  months  if  need  be,  before  the  great  conflict  comes  off;  and  the 
very  fundamental  rule  which  is  laid  down  for  a  man  that  is  to 
be  trained  for  a  prize-fighter,  is  temperance.  The  man  that  here- 
tofore had  never  suffered  an  opportunity  of  doing  good  to  pass  by — 
if  drinking  is  doing  good ! — is  absolutely  sworn  into  a  temporary 
total  abstinence.  Neither  brandy,  nor  gin,  nor  whisky  may  pass 
his  lips.  Nay,  in  the  most  modern,  in  the  most  scientific  training, 
neither  wine  nor  malt  liquors  may  pass  his  lips.  And  he  is  put,  in 
regard  to  his  food,  upon  only  the  most  wholesome  meats  and  the 
most  wholesome  of  farinaceous  diet ;  and  this  in  an  exactly  regula- 
ted quantity,  prescribed  at  precisely  the  same  hours.  And  he  be- 
comes a  model  of  temperance  and  regularity,  admired  by  every  hy- 
gienist  that  looks  upon  the  experiment.  He  continues  this  for  one 
month,  two  months,  three  months,  if  necessary,  until  his  whole  sys- 
tem glows  with  the  beauty  of  temperance.  These  great,  swollen, 
bull-necked  men;  these  great,  stalwart  fellows;  these  devourers  of 
meat;  these  vast  drinkers;  these  men  of  incontinent  j^leasures — see 
how,  for  the  sake  of  a  little  transient  praise,  and  the  purse  that  goes 
with  it,  they  will  submit  themselves  to  the  most  virtuous  temper- 
ance, and  to  a  long  continuance  therein.  Nay,  they  introduce  a 
semi-moral  element  that  goes  with  the  punctual  regularity  and  sys- 
tem which  they  introduce  into  their  lives.     Ought  comes  in  here. 


48  SELF-CONTBOL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL. 

They  sleep  just  as  much  as  they  ought  to  sleep,  and  they  awake  just 
when  they  ought  to  awake.  They  are  pi-acticed  in  the  most  vigor- 
ous exercises,  too,  just  as  much  and  just  as  loug  as  they  ought  to  be. 
There  is  a  kind  of  brute  conscience  brought  into  play.  They  begin 
to  follow  what  might  be  called  the  conscience  of  the  stomach,  the 
conscience  of  the  bone  and  muscle  ;  they  submit  themselves  to  it — 
and  that,  too,  with  extreme  regularity,  and  through  a  loug  period. 

The  system  of  exercises  to  which  men  submit,  if  exerted  in  indus- 
try applied  to  the  regular  functions  of  society,  would  obtain  for  them 
a  living  during  the  whole  year.  What  with  pulling  weights ;  what 
with  using  dumb-bells ;  what  with  swinging  clubs ;  what  with  run- 
ning, or  walking,  or  pulling  at  oars ;  and  what  with  a  thousand  dis- 
cijilines  that  men  undergo,  they  put  forth  an  amount  of  industry 
which,  if  applied  to  an  end,  would  support  them  through  a  whole  year. 
Here  is  this  training  of  the  body  to  toughness,  to  endurance,  to  elas- 
ticity, to  perfect  health  and  vigor ;  here  is  the  bringing  up  of  an  ab- 
solute jjhysical  manhood  to  the  highest  possible  standard,  followed 
day  and  niglit,  without  wavering,  for  weeks  and  for.  months — and  for 
what?  For  the  conflict  of  an  hour  and  a  half  or  two  hours.  Wilh 
most  brutal  results,  to  be  sure ;  but  then  there  was  the  motive.  For 
the  sake  of  that  they  practiced  a  self-denial  and  self-control  which 
must  appear  marvelous  to  any  man  that  looks  upon  it. 

Now,  if  in  such  a  class  as  this  there  is  a  power  of  self-denial,  you 
need  not  say  that  Christianity,  when  it  appeals  to  men  to  deny  them- 
selves, apj^eals  to  an  impossible,  a  romantic,  or  a  visionary  jjower. 
It  inheres  in  the  lowest  natures.  Only  find  men  with  an  appropri- 
ate motive,  with  a  motive  that  touches  them,  and  you  shall  find  that 
in  the  lowest  men,  and  men  the  most  brutal — brothers  of  the  lion 
and  the  tiger — there  is  a  potency  of  self-control  and  self-denial. 

Consider,  next,  the  example  of  men  of  a  very  much  higher  class, 
and  yet  in  the  same  genus — soldiers,  military  men.  If  there  be  any 
thing  in  this  world  that  men  dislike,  it  is  the  endurance  of  discom- 
forts, constant,  unintermitted ;  of  limitations,  restrictions,  and  discip- 
lines; and  yet  how  cheerfully  do  soldiers  endure  these  things  !  How 
willingly  do  they  forego  the  comforts  of  home !  How  much  do  they 
suffer  in  the  field !  How  do  they  become,  when  they  are  veterans, 
almost  indifferent  to  wind,  and  rain,  and  cold,  and  ice !  How  little 
are  they  dainty  of  their  food !  What  long  periods  are  they  able  to 
go  without  it!  Men  usually  shrink  from  danger;  but  at  last  the  sol- 
dier cultivates  danger.  He  becomes  knowing  and  skillful  in  all  its 
exigencies.  He  has  a  pride  in  it.  And  although  they  run  eagerly 
into  indulgence  again  when  the  occasion  requn-es,  how  do  modern 
soldiers  put  on  the  armor  of  self-denial,  and  cheer,  and  persever- 
ance therein. 


SELF-CONTEOL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL.  49 

In  far  less  discouraging  circumstances,,  how  hard  it  is  for  men 
that  are  not  soldiers  to  forego  the  comforts  and  conveniences  of  life ; 
but  how  cheerfully  these  men,  under  the  stimulus  of  various  motives 
of  ambition,  of  patriotism,  and  of  society  esprit  de  corps — lower  mo- 
tives, almost  all  of  them — how  cheerfully,  for  years,  and  sometimes 
almost  all  their  lives,  do  they  practice  themselves  in  every  thing 
that  is  rugged,  and  robust,  and  manly,  and  self-denying,  and  self- 
controlling  ! 

Well,  if  these  men  can  do  it,  any  body  can  do  it.  If  prize-fighters 
can  do  it,  soldiers  can  do  it.  And  if  soldiers  can  do  it,  civilians  can 
do  it.  The  only  question  is,  Will  you?  It  is  not  at  all  a  question 
as  to  whether  you  can.  Put  men  under  circumstances  where  they 
want  to,  where  they  have  motives  to  stir  them  up,  and  they  instantly 
show  that  they  have  these  virtues,  and  that  sometimes  they  can  prac- 
tice things  which  at  other  times  seem  impossible.  Speculative  reli- 
gious teachings  seem  to  them  impossible  visions  of  poets. 

Go  higher  yet,  to  the  commercial  class  of  men.  There  is  no 
class  in  the  world  that  submit  to  so  much  inconvenience,  annoyance, 
and  self-denial  as  men  that  are  making  their  fortunes — commer- 
cial men.  It  seems  impossible  to  limit  their  activity.  It  becomes 
my  duty,  and  the  duty  of  every  man  that  preaches  in  these  great 
cities,  to  caution  men  against  wearing  themselves  out  early.  Indo- 
lence is  natural  to  mankind.  Laziness  is  a  large  element  of  deprat 
vity.  Men  like  their  own  ease.  And  yet,  under  the  stimulus  of 
motives  of  wealth,  how  men  almost  forget  what  ease  means  !  How 
they  torment  themselves  all  tlie  week,  and  are  tormented  on  Sunday 
with  weekly  thoughts !  How  almost  impossible  it  becomes  for  them 
to  keep  still  enough  even  for  health !  Half  their  life  they  cheerfully 
give,  coiling  it  in  every  way,  tying  it  in  all  manner  of  knots,  fling- 
ing it  sometimes  as  the  javelin  is  flung,  sending  it  as  the  arrow  is 
sent,  swinging  it  as  the  sword  is  swung,  or  as  the  blacksmith  swings 
his  ponderous  hammer  on  the  anvil.  How  do  they  make  their  life 
bore,  pierce,  fly,  work — for  the  sake  of  what  ?  For  the  sake  of  a  lit- 
tle property.  And  are  they  going  to  be  happier  than  they  were  in 
amassing  it  ?  There  are  very  few  men  who  do  not  think  that  they 
are  going  to  be.  I  never  knew  a  man  that  had  not  some  speculative 
idea  of  what  he  was  going  to  be  by-and-by.  I  never  knew  a  man 
that  was  working  who  was  not  forever  saying,  "  As  soon  as  I  shall 
have  succeeded."  Men  are  always  weaving  that  golden  threaded 
net  that  is  to  bring  in  multitudes  of  fishes  from  the  sea,  and  a  piece 
of  money  in  every  one  of  them.  And  when  they  shall  have  gath- 
ered all,  then  there  is  to  be  that  wonderful  time  which  every  body  is 
living  for,  but  which  nobody  reaches,  when  there  shall  be  no  cares, 
no  burdens,  no  necessities,  no  inconveniences,  no  wrong  habits,  but 


50  SELF-CONTROL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL, 

sweet,  delicious,  balmy  ease.  They  are  always  going  to  have  that. 
And  yet,  stop  the  men  that  think  so,  and  probe  them.  Put  them 
upon  thinking.  What  is  your  observation  ?  Do  you  think  that  men 
who  have  succeeded  in  life  are  the  happy  men  ?  You  all  say,  "  No, 
I  do  not  think  they  are."  Do  you  think  your  happiness  has  increased 
in  the  ratio  in  which  you  have  approached  your  ideal  of  prosperity  ? 
"  No,  I  do  not  think  it  has."  Are  you  as  haj^py  a  man  as  you  were 
a  boy  ?  "  No."  Are  you  half  as  happy  as  you  thought  you  would 
be  Avhen  you  passed  that  milestone,  and  that  milestone,  and  that 
milestone  ?  "  No,  I  am  not."  And  you  do  not  expect  to  be  much 
happier  in  any  part  of  your  life,  do  you  ?  "  No."  How  old  are 
you?  "Forty  years."  What,  in  the  very  heyday  of  life,  in  the 
very  fullness  of  strength,  in  the  very  amplitude  of  experience  !  Will 
your  heart  ever  beat  more  vigorously  ?  Will  it  ever  send  better 
blood  through  your  body  to  stimulate  it  than  it  does  now  ?  Will 
your  life  ever  be  more  under  your  power  and  control  than  it  is  now? 
Standing  with  the  full  experience  of  life  upon  you,  you  admit  that 
you  have  not  gained  that  which  you  expected  to  gain,  or  that,  gain- 
ing it,  it  has  not  done  what  you  thought  it  would  do  for  you. 
And  do  you  suppose  that,  as  you  decline,  and  go  down  the  shady 
side  beyond,  you  will  be  happier  ?  "  No,  I  do  not."  And  yet, 
though  you  know  it,  how  cheerfully  do  you  take  one  half  of  your 
life,  yes,  two  thirds  of  it,  and  offer  it  up  a  sacrifice  for  the  sake  of 
that  speculative,  that  scarcely-to-be-expected  Eden  of  the  futixre 
that  lies  beyond,  and  that  every  man  hopes  to  be  admitted  into  be- 
fore he  dies.  And  yet,  see  what  self-denials  men  practice  for  these 
illusory,  speculative,  imaginative,  poetical  conceptions  of  commercial 
prosperity. 

The  half  is  not  told.  The  most  disagreeable  things  are  done  by 
men,  and  men  of  sensitive  nerve,  if  there  be  money  in  them.  How 
patiently  will  they  work  in  the  tallow-chandler's  shop  !  If  there  is 
one  thing  more  odious  than  another,  it  is  decaying  fat.  But  if 
there  is  money  in  it,  how  sweet  is  the  perfume  at  last  to  the  men 
that  stand  in  the  midst  of  it !  How  disagreeable  must  be  a  fish- 
monger's life  (if  fish  smell  to  him  as  they  do  to  me) !  How 
excessively  annoying  to  men  it  must  be  to  be  obliged  to  achieve 
large  moneys  by  living  in  an  oil  store,  by  being  a  collier,  by  working 
in  grime,  and  by  working  at  untimely  hours  !  And  yet,  how  glad 
men  are  for  such  a  chance  !  How  they  train  the  eye,  and  train  the 
nose,  and  train  the  ears !  They  endure  screeching  sounds,  and  odious 
smells,  and  disagreeable  sights,  and  ugly  companionship,  and  all' 
manner  of  annoyances,  which  they  are  framing  their  life  to  have 
nothing  to  do  with  by-and-by — they  endure  these  things  for  the  sake 
of  gaining  the  golden  profit. 


SELF-CONTROL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL.  51 

Nay  more,  ^ovr  does  a  man  hate  his  own  flesh !  Ho-w  do 
tlie  very  men  that  leave  the  temperate,  rightly  adjiisted  latitudes 
cheerfully  go  to  the  tropics  and  burn  in  Cuba  !  How  do  they  s\veat 
and  swelter  along  the  line,  if  only  there  is  the  prospect  of  property! 
How  long  they  make  themselves  exiles  in  China  and  Japan  if  only 
•when,  with  their  liver  utterly  disorganized,  and  their  skin  tanned 
yellow  as  leather,  they  can  come  home  with  bags  full  of  money,  too 
dried-np  and  too  old  to  make  use  of  them  !  And  yet  how  cheerfully 
do  they  go  there  !  How  will  they  beat  at  the  door  of,  the  north, 
that  never  yet  has  opened  to  any  sesame ;  how  will  they  venture 
amidst  the  ice-mountains  of  the  Arctic  regions,  and  provoke  the 
extremes  of  temperature,  and  face  the  malaria,  and  make  themselves 
familiar  with  fevers,  for  the  sake  of  wealth !  All  that  heat  can  do, 
and  all  cold  can  do,  and  all  that  jierilous  adventure  can  do,  and  all 
that  exposure  can  do,  day  and  night,  through  years  and  years,  deny- 
ing their  taste,  denying  their  social  tendencies,  denying  their  love  of 
refined  society,  denying  their  ambitions — how  do  men  go  throuo-h  all 
these  things  for  the  sake  of  a  little  money  ! 

Men,  too,  when  the  minister  says  to  them,  "  You  ought  to  live  a 
life  of  self-denial,"  say,  "  That  is  so ;  but  I  can  not  deny  myself."  And 
yet  men  of  the  world  can  deny  themselves  when  they  are  going 
through  organized,  gigantic,  perpetual  self-denials,  only  for  a  lower 
object. 

Ah  !  bow  sublime  the  life  would  be  of  an  all- world-disturbing 
merchant,  if  only  it  were  for  a  moral  end;  if  only  it  were  for  the  life 
eternal,  and  not  for  the  life  that  perishes ;  if  only  it  were  for  the  glory 
of  God,  and  not  for  his  own  glory;  if  only  it  were  for  the  welfare  of 
his  fellow-men,  and  not  simply  for  his  own  welfare,  and  the  welfare 
of  his  own  household !  And  yet,  we  see  the  most  stupendous  in- 
stances of  self-denial  in  the  meanest  spheres  and  for  the  meanest 
ends.  IsTow  and  then  there  is  a  man  that  practices  for  moral  ends,  on 
the  great  cycles  of  eternity,  such  self-denial  as  the  meanest  natures 
are  practicing  unweariedly  for  the  vulgarest  and  lowest  objects. 
And  what  a  contrast  does  the  example  of  such  a  man  present  to  the 
languid  and  indifferent  way  in  which  others  are  living  a  Christian 
life  !     But  more  of  that  by  and-by. 

Consider  how  patient  men  are  with  their  fellow-men.  Frost  is 
teasing,  and  heat  is  annoying,  and  flies  bother  us,  and  mosquitoes  and 
fleas  torment  us;  but  man  is  the  omnimn gatherum  of  all  vexatious 
insects  in  the  world.  He  is  the  only  universal  tease.  The  hardest 
thing  to  bear  is  men.  They  annoy  you  ;  they  try  you ;  they  torment 
you ;  they  vex  you.  By  as  much  as  they  are  more  composite  in 
make,  by  so  much  have  they  more  power  to  disturb  your  various 
faculties  incessantly.     A  man  that  can  bear  cheerfully  his  fellow-men 


52  SELF-CONTROL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL. 

has  little  to  learn.  When  men  have  no  motive,  how  cross  they  are, 
how  uncharitable  thoy  arc,  how  impatient  they  are,  how  they  will 
not  be  bothered  with  men  as  quick  as  they  can  get  rid  of  them  !  But 
the  moment  they  have  an  interest  in  others,  see  what  perfect  Christians 
they  are — in  a  mean  way  !  If  a  man  owes  you  a  debt — I  am  speak- 
ing feelingly  now  ! — and  you  think  you  can  get  it  by  crushing  him  as 
a  cluster  is  crushed,  you  will  do  it.  But  sometimes  there  is  no  cluster 
to  crush,  and  then  you  take  your  debtor  and  deal  with  him  as  the 
vintner  does  with  a  vine.  He  manures  it,  and  trims  it,  and  trains  it, 
and  coaxes  it  to  bear.  You  tend  this  man,  and  take  care  of  him. 
You  do  a  world  of  work  for  the  sake  of  helping  him  to  bear  clusters 
that  by-and-by  shall  be  pressed  into  your  cup.  You  say,  "  It  is  not 
sending  a  thousand  dollars  after  another  thousand  ;  it  is  only  taking 
care  of  that  other  thousand,  and  bringing  it  back."  And  you  will  set 
him  uji  in  business,  though  all  the  time  you  are  mad  at  him  and  hate 
him.  You  will  give  him  a  good  name  ;  you  will  indorse  for  him  ; 
and  you  will  get  him  into  a  fat  office,  making  arrangements  that  he  shall 
pay  installments  of  what  he  owes  you  out  of  the  profits  of  that  office. 
If  it  is  your  interest  that  he  should  stand  high  and  make  money,  you 
defend  him,  and  labor  in  his  behalf,  that  you  may  at  last  make  your 
own  gain  out  of  your  debtor.  Why,  if  you  should  take  a  man  on 
Christian  principles,  and  do  as  much  as  that  for  him,  you  would  be 
canonized  as  a  saint ;  but  if  a  merchant  does  it  for  a  man  that  is  his 
debtor,  nobody  thinks  it  is  any  thing  more  than  smartness. 

And  then,  for  the  same  reasons,  see  how  men  bear  with  disagreeable 
men.  You  have  your  wares  for  sale.  You  have  your  various  business 
on  your  hands.  "  It  takes  all  sorts  of  men  to  make  a  world,"  you  say ; 
and  though  you  would  rather  see  a  high-minded,  upright  man  come 
into  your  store,  yet  any  body  that  buys,  and  pays  for  what  he  buys, 
is  welcome  there.  And  if  the  price  of  his  buying  is,  that  you  shall  be 
accessible  to  him,  and  "  hail  fellow  well  met  "  with  him,  you  swallow 
down  the  reluctance,  and  say  to  yourself,  "  My  business  requires  it ;" 
and  you  say  to  your  clerks,  "  You  must  not  do  any  thing  to  offi?nd  him. 
Pie  is  disagreeable  enough,  we  all  know  ;  but  you  must  recollect  our 
interests  in  this  matter."  And  there  is  nothing  too  good  for  that  man. 
To  men  that  all  the  community  put  the  ban  upon,  if  they  come  full-pock- 
eted to  your  store,  and  buy  largely  and  regularly,  and  pay  as  they  go, 
your  house  is  just  as  hospitable  as  though  it  were  a  golden  j^alace. 
You  bear  with  them,  and,  .if  necessary,  bring  them  home  with 
you.  You  open  the  sanctity  of  your  house  to  them.  Or,  if  this  can 
not  be,  you  take  them  to  the  most  resplendent  hotel,  with  a  few  friends 
that,  for  your  sake,  will  consent  to  undergo  the  torture  of  a  great 
dinner,  to  conciliate  this  disagreeable  fellow  that  you  must  conciliate 
as  your  customer ! 


SELF-CONTROL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL.  53 

You  say  to  your  companion  at  home,  "My  dear  wife,  I  wish  to 
invite  Mr.  So-and-So  to  our  house ;"  and  she  says, "  My  dear  husband, 
you  know  that  is  not  right.  What  a  man  he  is,  according  to  your  own 
showing !  And  then,  what  right  have  you  to  bring  him  into  the  fami- 
ly, among  our  children?"  "But,  ray  dear,"  says  the  husband,  "you 
know  very  little  of  the  world.  You  have  not  the  least  idea  of  the 
value  of  his  account  to  our  establishment."  "But  oh!  my  husband," 
the  wife  says,  "  what  money  can  pay  you  for  the  loss  of  your  self- 
resi^ect  ?  You  are  noble,  and  will  you  vail  yourself  before  this  detest- 
able man  ?"  And  he,  seeing  that  he  is  making  no  headway  in  bad 
motives,  turns  and  says,  "My  dear,  you  know  how  it  is.  If  I  get  over 
this  crisis  in  my  affairs — and  this  man  will  certainly  take  me  throuo-h 
— then  I  can  do  differently.  It  is  not  for  myself,  nor  for  you ;  but  I 
wish  to  provide  for  our  children."  "  Oh!"  says  she,  "if  it  is  for  the 
children,  I  suppose  it  must  be  done  !"  And  so  that  ogre,  that  baboon, 
with  a  golden-lined  pocket,  comes  to  the  house ;  and  the  servant  is 
ready  at  the  door  to  wait  on  him,  and  ever}^  body  is  obsequious,  and 
he  has  the  best  room  and  the  best  place.  That  poor,  self-denyino- 
virtuous  man  in  the  neighborhood,  whom  God  and  the  angels  look 
down  upon  with  complacency,  never  had  the  light  of  this  man's  coun- 
tenance on  him ;  but  for  the  man  who  has  money  every  thing  is  made 
smooth,  and  all  are  obsequious  toward  him. 

Now,  here  is  a  case  of  great  self-denial.  I  do  not  say  that  the  man 
does  it  because  he  loves  to.  He  has  to  take  up  his  cross ;  but  he  does 
it  patiently. 

A  friend  that  is  present  told  mo  this  incident,  which  I  am  at 
liberty  to  repeat.  During  the  days  Avhen  color  was  a  virtue,  in  a  fa- 
mous church  in  New- York  a  distinguished  merchant  had  a  colored 
man  in  his  pew.  The  presence  of  that  colored  man  in  the  congrega- 
tion had  the  same  effect  that  a  lump  of  salt  would  have  in  a  cup  of 
tea.  The  whole  congregation,  with  an  eternity  to  consider,  thought 
only  of  that  colored  man  in  that  merchant's  pew.  And  as  they  went 
out  of  the  church,  various  persons  gathered  about  the  merchant  and! 
said,  "  What  possessed  you  to  bring  that  nigger  into  your  pew  ?" 
He  whispered  and  said  to  them,  "  He  is  a  great  planter,  and  he  is  rich — 
he  is  a  millionaire."  And  then  they  said,  "  Introduce  us  to  him,  in- 
troduce us  to  him !"  As  soon  as  they  knew  that  he  was  not  a  vulgar 
man,  working  for  his  living,  but  a  capitalist  and  a  millionaire,  they 
were  very  willing  to  cross  palms  with  him.  Then  Avhere  was  their 
fine  taste  ?  and  where  was  that  distinguished  consideration  of  min- 
gling God's  laws  ?  and  where  was  all  that  ethics  Avhich  we  have  heard 
80  much  about  in  years  gone  by  of  social  equality,  and  of  different 
races  ?  It  was  gone  in  a  minute.  When  mammon  said,  "  Let  it  o"o," 
it  was  all  right.     But  when  the  loving  Jesus  said,  "  Let  it  go,"  that 


54  SELF-CONTROL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL. 

was  detestable.   Men  will  do  any  thing  for  money  in  this  bad  world. 
Ah  !  self-denial  is  from  God  ? 

Nay  more.  We  see  how  willingly  and  cheerfully  great  men, 
great  natures,  for  the  sake  of  an  ignoble  ambition,  that  is  not  very 
high,  after  all,  will  sacrifice  their  lives,  their  multiform  faculties  and 
enjoyments. 

Let  me  mention  one  to  whom,  in  some  respects,  I  owe  a  debt  of 
gratitude — Daniel  Webster.  In  my  boyhood,  his  writings  had  a 
powerful  effect  on  my  imagination.  He  was  a  man  who  by  educa- 
tion could  have  had  moral  sense,  but  who  lived  in  circumstances  in 
which  it  Avas  overslaughed,  great  as  he  was.  He  was  a  man  not  with- 
out moral  sentiment,  but  witliout  moral  sense.  He  had  a  feeling,  an 
inspiration  of  the  dignity  and  the  grandeur  of  moral  things  ;  but  the 
moral  sense  that  makes  things  riglit  or  wrong  he  was  quite  deficient 
in.  And  though  he  towered  above  all  his  fellows,  and  was  easily 
the  first  man  of  his  nation,  and  jjerhaps  of  his  time,  anywliere; 
although  he  had  a  creative  brain,  and  did  all  great  things  that 
he  did  better  than  other  men,  and  more  easily  than  other  men ; 
although  he  Avas  a  man  with  a  massive  nature,  both  in  body 
and  in  mind,  capable  of  outstripping  all  his  fellow-men,  he  gath- 
ered up  his  lore,  and  exiDerience,  and  taste,  and  moral  sentiment, 
and  sacrificed  them  all  for  the  bauble  of  the  Presidency.  He  sold 
himself  for  it ;  and  he  sold  himself  at  such  a  price  that  he  was  not 
esteemed  worth  any  thing  by  the  men  that  bought  him ;  and  they 
threw  him  off,  and  his  heart  broke,  and  he  died,  counting  his  whole 
life  to  have  been  a  total  failure  !  He  was  a  great  nature  in  many  re- 
gards ;  and  yet,  now  that  he  is  gone,  men  only  think  of  him  to 
moiirn  over  his  name.  It  sounds  in  my  ears  as  the  stroks  of  tlie  vil- 
lage bell,  announcing  that  some  one  has  gone  to  the  eternal  world. 
I  mourn  over  him.  I  see  how  his  great,  variously  endowed,  rich  life 
was  a  matter  of  self  denial  for  the  poor,  paltry  ofiice  of  the  Presidency 
— an  office  that  never  makes  a  man  great,  as  we  have  many  instances 
to  show,  and  which  belittles  a  great  many  men  that  might  have  been 
great. 

And  there  are  those  living,  that  are  to  be  revered  for  many  excel- 
lences, who  are  now  counting  all  things  as  naught,  and  who,  adopt- 
ing the  Apostle's  form  of  expression,  could  say,  "  I  count  all  things 
but  dung,  that  I  may  win  the  Presidency."  Literature,  various 
learning,  eloquence,  all  political  experience,  all  judicial  excellence, 
whatever  there  is  to  make  up  a  well-furnished  man,  they  have ;  but 
■the  whole  vast  orb,  and  the  mighty  interior  of  these  tilings,  they 
cheerfully  sacrifice  for  the  sake  of  a  poor,  paltry  ambition.  I  am 
sorry  for  them.  There  are  a  great  many  men  of  whom  it  will  be 
true  again,  "  He  that  seeks  his  life  shall  lose  it,"  as  of  a  great  many 


SELF-CONTBOL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL.  55 

men  it  is  being  TV'ritten,  blessed  be  God,  "  He  that  Avill  lose  Lis  life 
shall  find  it"— shall  save  it. 

These  illustrations  are  enough,  I  think,  to  satisfy  you  that  the 
principle  of  self  denial  and  of  self-control  not  only  is  not  impossible 
to  human  nature,  but  is  one  of  the  commonest,  one  of  the  most  uni- 
versal priuciples  in  exercise;  and  that  when  the  Christian  religion 
introduces  self-denial,  symbolizing  it  by  the  cross,  it  does  not  intro- 
duce a  new  principle,  and  does  not  introduce  a  difficult  one.  If  no 
man  is  worthy  to  be  a  disciple  of  Christ  unless  he  take  up  his  cross, 
and  deny  himself,  and  follow  the  Savioui-,  he  is  only  saying  in  regard 
to  himself,  and  to  the  world  eternal,  what  this  world  says  in  regard  to 
every  man  that  follows  it.  There  is  no  trade  that  does  not  say  to 
every  applicant  that  comes  to  it,  "  If  you  will  take  up  your  cross  and 
follow  me,  you  shall  have  my  remuneration,"  There  is  no  profession 
that  does  not  say  to  every  applicant, "  If  you  will  take  up  your  cross 
and  follow  me,  I  will  reward  you."  There  is  no  pleasure,  there  is  no 
ambition,  there  is  no  course  tliat  men  pursue,  from  the  lowest  to  the 
highest  in  the  horizon  of  secular  things,  that  does  not  say  to  every 
man,  "Unless  you  take  up  your  cross  and  follow  me,  you  shall  have 
none  of  me."  Now,  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  standing  like  the  angel 
in  the  sun,  with  the  eternal  world  for  a  background,  clothed  in  gar- 
ments white  as  snow,  as  no  fuller  on  earth  could  white  them,  and 
calling  us  to  honor  and  glory  and  immortality,  says  only,  in  behalf 
of  these  higher  things,  what  the  whole  world  says  of  its  poor,  grov- 
elling, and  miserable  things — "  Take  uj)  your  cross  and  follow  me." 
Lust  says  so :  why  should  not  love  say  so  ?  "Wealth  that  perishes 
says  so,  and  earthly  glory  that  fades  like  the  laurel  wreath  says  so : 
why  should  not  that  crown  of  fine  gold  that  never  grows  dim  say 
so  ?  And  if  men  will  hear  it  from  the  world,  oh  !  Avhy  will  they  not 
hear  it  from  God,  and  Christ,  and.eternity  ? 

When  we  urge  such  considerations  upon  tlie  young,  and  young 
men  are  fired  thereby ;  when  truly  noble  natures  hear  the  call,  and 
accept  it,  and  yield  themselves  to  it,  and  enter  upon  a  religious  life 
with  enthusiasm  and  fervor,  and  deny  themselves  in  all  things  in  fur- 
therance of  its  commands,  how  strangely  the  world  fails  to  recognize 
its  own  redeeming  qualities  !  And  how  are  these  men  called  fanatics 
and  enthusiasts ! 

Xow,  enthusiasm  in  religion  is  the  highest  and  the  only  rational- 
ity. It  is  the  only  good  sense.  There  is  not  a  father  who  does  not  say 
to  his  child,  going  out  into  life,  "  If  you  are  to  succeed  as  a  lawyer, 
my  son,  you  must  give  yourself  to  it."  And  I  say  to  every  man  that  is 
going  out  as  a  Christian,  "  If  you  are  going  to  succeed  as  a  Christian, 
you  must  give  yourself  to  it.''''  Every  teacher  says  to  the  scholar,  "  If 
you  will  give  yourself  up  to  it,  you  may  become  eminent  in  this  de- 


56  SELF-CONTROL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL. 

partment."  We  stir  up  the  young  men  of  whom  we  liope  great 
things,  saying,  "  Glow !  B^e  intense !  Be  earnest,  continuously 
so  !"  And  Avhen  we  see  tliat  they  do  it,  we  praise  them,  and  say 
that  they  will  attain  distinction  and  become  eminent.  But  when 
for  higher  things,  when  for  lionor,  when  for  love,  when  for  the  so- 
ciety of  just  men  made  perfect  in  heaven,  when  for  his  own  self- 
approbation,  when  for  that  which  every  man  carries  in  his  aspiration 
and  conscience,  a  man  says,  "  I  follow  Christ  supremely,  wholly,"  men 
laugh  at  him.  "  I  believe  in  religion,"  says  a  man  ;  "  but  then,  I  be- 
lieve there  is  moderation  in  all  things."  No,  there  is  not.  There  is 
not  much  when  you  swear.  There  is  not  much  when  you  eat  and 
drink.  There  is  not  much  when  you  are  after  money.  There  is  no 
moderation  in  your  avarice.  There  is  no  moderation  in  your  vanity 
and  your  boasting.  There  is  no  moderation  in  your  pride,  swollen 
and  overbearing  as  it  is.  There  is  no  moderation  in  anytliing  except 
your  conscience.  That  is  very  moderate !  And  when  men  around 
about  you  give  a  loose  to  their  generous  feelings,  "  Ah  !"  you  say,  "  that 
man  is  throwing  himself  and  all  his  j^roperty  away."  You  say,  "Mo- 
deration in  all  things."  He  has  his  moderation  in  selfishness,  and  you 
ha^e  yours  in  generosity.  You  are  very  moderate  in  your  generous,  lov- 
ing, genial  spirit.  If  a  man  be  intense  in  his  religious  convictions,  men 
say,  "  He  is  dogmatical."  If  a  man  believes,  men  say,  "  It  is  a  world 
of  error.  No  man  ought  to  think  that  he  knows  better  than  his  fa- 
thers knew,  or  than  his  neighbors  know.  It  is  arrogance.  It  is  self- 
conceit."  When  a  man  says,  "  I  know  in  whom  I  believe,"  it  carries 
no  reflection  on  those  who  went  before,  and  no  reflection  on  those 
that  are  to  follow.  It  is  merely  saying,  "  This  is  my  conviction  ;"  and 
in  that  conviction  he  lives  and  triumphs.  But  men  say,  "  He  is  big- 
oted." 

Now,  a  man  that  does  not  care  anything  about  what  he  believes, 
does  not  of  course  care  what  anybody  else  believes.  I  never  heard 
of  a  beggar  that  was  ashamed  of  his  rags,  or  of  a  beggar  in  theology 
that  Avas  ashamed  of  a  ragged  theology.  But  men  that  are  earnest 
in  their  convictions,  and  that  exert  their  power  to  do  good,  are  said 
to  be  fanatical,  because  they  will  not  give  up  those  convictions.  Why, 
just  so  in  the  height  of  battle,  a  man  is  fanatical  who  will  not  give 
up  his  sword  to  those  who  are  seeking  to  destroy  his  life,  but  employs 
it  to  gain  victories.  Men's  beliefs  are  the  things  by  which  they  con- 
test in  this  world.  But  how  are  men  continually  reviled  by  the 
world !  The  world,  that  knows  that  in  its  own  range  whatever  has 
fervent  manhood,  fiery  zeal,  intense  perseverance,  succeeds,  turns 
right  around,  and  says  to  those  that  bring  the  same  things  to  bear 
for  higher,  nobler  ends,  "  You  are  fanatics  ;  you  are  enthusiasts."  I 
would  to  God  that  there  was  more  enthusiasm ;  I  wish  there  was 


SELF-CONTROL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL.  57 

more  fanaticism  in  this  liiglier  sphere.  It  is  the  salvation  of  the 
world  to  have  one  man  in  an  age  that  does  profoundly  believe,  and 
brino-  a  o-reat  nature  to  his  belief.  Ah !  these  men  that  do  not  be- 
lieve  are  like  casks  when  they  leak.  They  are  placed  in  the  cellar, 
and  there,  drop  by  drop,  unheard  and  unobserved,  the  wine  is  leaking 
away.  A  month  passes,  and  no  one  knows  where  the  level  of  the 
wine  is.  A  year  passes,  and  still  it  is  leaking,  and  leaking,  and  leak- 
ing. And  wJien,  by-and-by,  the  owner  comes  for  his  ripened  wine, 
behold  the  cask  is  empty  ! 

Men  of  genius,  men  of  sensibility,  men  of  philanthropy,  in  our 
day,  are  all  afloat.  They  have  roots  in  nothing.  There  are  men, 
that  are,  as  it  were,  in  the  night,  feeling,  in  a  strange  room,  to  know 
where  the  metes  and  bounds  of  things  are.  They  are  not  men  of  new 
faiths  :  they  are  men  of  no  faith.  They  are  men  that  have  let  go  the 
old,  and  have  not  got  hold  of  the  new.  Every  thing  in  them  is  leak- 
ing out.  And  though  at  first  they  were  generous,  and  seemed  to  be 
liberal,  and  true  to  conviction,  in  the  end  they  will  be  lean  and  com- 
fortless.    All  will  be  gone.     There  is  no  life  without  faith. 

A  word  more  in  application  of  this  subject  to  the  matter  of  self- 
culture.  We  live  in  an  age  in  which  there  is  too  much  said  about 
self-culture.  There  are  two  kinds  of  self-culture — the- self-culture  of 
self-indulgence,  and  the  self-culture  of  self-denial.  There  are  a  great 
many  persons  who  under  that  term  self -culture  are  merely  providing 
for  themselves  the  means  of  doing  what  they  love  to  do  best.  "  Shall 
I  not  follow  my  genius  ?"  say  they.  "  Can  a  man  expect  to  develop 
himself  and  be  cultured  unless  he  follows  his  strong  faculty  ?"  And 
so  men  forego  a  thousand  social  duties,  and  a  thousand  disagreeable 
things,  in  order  that  they  may  develop  themselves  and  be  self-cultur- 
ed. And  a  man  often  becomes,  if  not  indolent,  yet  self-seeking,  and  is 
eternally  looking  in,  as  if  his  soul  was  the  pivot  of  the  universe,  and 
everything  turned  on  that.  And  self-culture  is  nothing  in  this  world 
but  a  species  of  self-indulgence.  Men  are  developed  into  selfishness, 
and  self-seekers,  and  self-admirers.  That  is  one  kind  of  self-culture, 
and  a  very  natural  one. 

There  is  another  kind  of  self-culture,  or  self-denial,  in  which  men 
feel  that  they  are  worthy  to  bear  pain,  and  to  do  things  which  their 
natural  man  does  not  love  to  do.  And  so  they  crucify  the  flesh. 
They  crucify  pride.  They  put  down  vanity.  They  build  up  the  low 
places.  They  toil  that  they  may  make  themselves  symmetrical ;  that 
they  may  round  out  a  perfect  manhood,  for  the  sake  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  that  gave  himself  for  them.  This  self-culture  of  tears,  of 
prayer,  of  watching,  of  self-denial,  this  abasement  for  the  sake  of  ele- 
vation, this  dying  for  the  sake  of  living — this  is  a  true  self-culture. 
But  oh !   how  few  of  those  that  talk  about  self-culture  understand 


58  SELF-CONTROL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL. 

that  it  is  a  process  by  which  we  are  crucified  with  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ ! 

One  word  more.  What  are  called  self-denying  acts  in  this  world 
— Christian  instances  of  self-denial — when  we  come  to  compare  them 
with  the  corresponding  actions  of  men  for  lower  objects,  and  under 
worse  motives,  do  not  seem  either  so  deserving  of  jDraise  or  so  won- 
derful as  otherwise  they  are  likely  to  be. 

I  know  a  lady  who  has  left  her  family  and  gone  to  Africa  to  live. 
Her  parents  stand  second  to  none  in  the  society  where  they  dwell.  She 
was  the  child  of  admiration.  On  her  was  lavished  every  thing  that 
could  be  lavished  in  the  culture  of  native  excellence.  And  she  cheerful- 
ly took  it  all  in  her  hand,  and  joined  herself  to  the  lot  of  a  missionary, 
and  is  living  in  the  wilds  of  Africa,  surrounded  by  the  poor  untutored 
creatures  there.  And  men  are  either  so  indignant  that  she  should 
have  thus  thrown  herself  away  that  they  will  not  speak  of  it ;  or  else 
they  hold  up  hands  of  exclamation  and  amazement,  weakly  wonder- 
ing how  it  is  possible  for  any  one  to  do  such  a  thing  as  that. 

It  ought  to  be  easy  for  one  to  do  just  such  a  thing  as  that.  Any 
one  that  is  acquainted  with  the  power  of  the  in^yard  life  would  not 
consider  that  as  doing  very  much.  Ah  !  if  the  man  had  been  after 
elephants'  tusks,  and  gold  dust,  and  his  wife  had  gone  with  him,  that 
would  have  been  another  thing.  TJiat  men  would  have  understood. 
But  as  she  is  there  to  teach  the  children  in  the  schools,  and  to  pray 
with  the  dying,  and  to  give  to  her  own  sex  some  elevation ;  as  she  is 
there  to  preach  of  heaven,  and  to  lead  men  there;  as  she  seeks  her 
life  in  the  wilderness,  that  she  may  live  among  apostles  and  prophets, 
and  with  God  himself,  saying,  "  Well  done  "  to  her  forever  and  for- 
ever, men  say,  "  That  is  fanatical !  It  is  extraordinary  !  There  must 
be  something  wrong  there,"  they  say.  But  there  was  something 
right  there,  you  may  be  sure. 

Men  go  down  into  the  sinks  of  New  York,  into  dog-kennels,  into 
houses  of  ill-resort.  They  give  their  time  and  their  labor  to  the  work 
of  evangelization.  And  the  world  stands  looking  on  and  saying, 
"These  fellows  love  notoriety."  They  cannot  think  of  anything  but 
that.  "  It  is  bringing  religion  into  disrepute,"  they  say.  What  do 
they  mean  \>j  religion?  Religion  to  them  is  a  beautiful  suit  of 
broadcloth,  and  a  magnificent  suit  of  silk,  locked  arm-in-arm,  and 
walking  to  Grace  Church,  and  sitting  and  listening  to  resplendent 
music,  surrounded  by  respectable  people,  that  send  cards  through 
their  coachmen's  hands  to  each  other.  The  religion  of  men  that  ai'e 
in  good  circumstances,  and  that  worship  in  fine  churches  where  they 
do  things  comme  ilfaut — that  is  respectable  religion ;  and  you  may 
be  sure  that  it  will  never  disgrace  itself  by  going  into  the  haunts 
and  purlieus  of  vice.    But  when  you  see  men  go  down  in  earnest, 


SELF-CONTROL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL.  59 

day  after  day,  and  Tvork  for  tlio  lowest  and  the  poorest,  as  Clirist 
himself  worked  for  the  publicans  and  harlots,  men  say,  "  That  is  dese- 
crating religion.  It  is  lowering  it."  If  you  say  to  them,  "There 
are  votes  in  it !"  "  Ah  !  ah  !"  they  say,  "  I  understand  it  now.  You 
are  all  right.  Go  on — go  oii — if  there  are  votes  in  it !"  Only  jDut  a 
mean  motive  to  it,  only  put  selfishness  there  instead  of  disinterested- 
ness, only  put  this  sweltering  world  there  instead  of  pure  religion 
and  men  instantly  say,  "  Ah !  I  understand  it.  It  is  all  right."  They 
do  not  believe,  and  they  do  not  disbelieve,  in  self-denial ;  but  it  must 
always  be  doAvnward.  When  a  man  will  deny  himself  to  become 
worse,  to  become  prouder,  to  become  richer,  to  become  luxurious,  to 
become  more  despotic,  men  think  it  is  all  right ;  but  when  ho  denies 
himself  to  become  better,  sweeter,  more  divine  and  noble,  that  is 
what  men  do  not  understand. 

My  Christian  brethren,  say  to  yourselves,  say  to  your  children,  that 
there  is  no  difference  between  the  life  of  the  man  of  the  world  and  that 
of  a  Christian  man,  in  the  matter  of  self-denial.  That  is  a  universal 
principle,  which  belongs  to  every  spliere  and  part  of  human  life. 
Without  it,  no  man  can  go  through  the  world.  And  the  only  ques- 
tion that  we  have  to  settle  is  this:  Will  you  employ  self  denial  for 
the  sake  of  exalting  yourself?  or  will  you  employ  it  for  the  sake  of 
debasing  yourself?  Will  you  use  it  as  a  staff  to  lead  you  higher  and 
higher,  or  to  go  down  deeper  and  deeper,  murkier  and  more  de- 
graded ? 

"  And  every  man  that  striveth  for  the  mastery  is  temperate  in  all 
things.  Now  they  do  it  to  obtain  a  corruptible  crown;  but  we  an 
incorruptible." 

While  yet  they  live,  the  leaves  grow  sear  upon  their  brow. 
Theii'  very  footstej^s,  with  which  they  sound  the  dance,  shake  down 
these  withered  leaves ;  and  they  are  discrowned  in  the  very  wearing 
of  their  crowns.  But  around  about  our  heads  that  follow  Christ 
invisible  leaves  there  are;  or,  if  they  are  visible,  men  call  them 
thorns — as  they  should  be  called,  since  we  follow  him  that  wore 
them ;  but  as  the  angels  behold  them,  tliey  are  those  imperishable 
flowers — that  amaranth  which  never  blossoms  to  fade  or  to  fail. 
And  our  crown  shall  be  bright  when  the  stars  have  gone,  and  the 

sun  has  foi'gotten  to  shine ! 

♦ — 

PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMOIf. 

We  adore  thee,  O  thou  God  of  mei-cy,  thou  God  of  comfort.  We  adore  thee  when  thy  power 
Is  made  manifest  m  the  revelation  of  thyself  which  thou  hast  made,  in  the  globe  on  which  we 
dwell,  in  the  processes  and  developments  of  history,  in  the  whole  evolution  of  the  human  race. 
But  neither  thy  power  nor  thy  love  could  subdue  us.  If  we  had  seen  only  these,  thou  wouldst 
BtUl  have  been  afar  off,  and  we  should  have  gazed  upon  thee  as  upon  the  stars  whose  light  comes 
to  us,  but  nothin;;  more.  It  is  the  revelation  of  thy  love  that  makes  thee  the  Sun  of  riprhteous- 
ness,  pouring^  light  and  warmth  upon  us,  and  bringing  life  and  joy  to  these  dead  hearts.  We 
adore  thee  with  our  hearts.  We  have  the  august  familiarity  and  sacredness  and  intimacy  of  love. 
To  this  thou  dost  exhort  us ;  unto  this  thou  dost  draw  us ;  to  this  thou  hast  brought  us.    Thou 


60 


SELF-CGNTROL  POSSIBLE  TO  ALL. 


hast  taught  ns  by  nil  the  pn^sagcs  thereof.  Thon  hapt  made  ns  to  understand  the  inspiration  and 
the  glancing  power  thereof.  Thou  hast  taught  us  to  live  by  faith,  and  with  faith  to  work  by  love. 
And  thou  art  thyself  supreme  over  us,  not  by  the  terror  of  thy  right  hand  of  power,  and  not  by 
those  necessities  which  draw  upon  our  self-interest  and  cur  lower  life.  Thou  hast  made  us  will- 
ing in  the  day  of  thy  power,  by  all  the  attractions  of  love.  Thy  goodness  hath  led  us  to  repent- 
ance, and  thy  gentleness  hath  saved  us. 

And  now,  O  Lord,  we  desire  to  admire  the  way  in  which  we  have  been  led.  Much  of  it  is 
covered  up ;  and  yet  it  is  there.  As  the  husbandman  turns  his  furrow,  and  buries  deep  the  grass 
and  the  blossoms,  so  that  they  are  liidden  from  sight,  perishing  only  that  they  may  make  that 
richer  which  has  destroyed  them,  so  thou  hast  turned  in  us  the  turrows  that  seem  to  bring  joy 
and  brightness  and  hope  ;  and  we  have  been  made  better  by  it.  Our  strengtli  has  come  often  out 
of  overthrow,  our  victory  out  of  defeat,  and  our  most  confident  expectations  out  of  despondency. 
For  thou  knowest  the  husbandry  of  the  soul.  Left  alone,  men  wander,  and  are  butted  and 
driven  hither  and  thither,  and  know  not  how  to  guide  themselves,  running  in  circles  after  the 
nearest  attraction  ;  but  thou  dost  give  to  the  soul  its  sure  and  final  aim,  and  dost  teach  it  to  con- 
secrate all  that  it  hath  within  it,  and  to  bless  therewith  thy  holy  name. 

We  thank  thee,  in  looking  at  our  o\\ti  endeavors,  in  looking  upon  our  own  erperiences,  for 
the  past.  There  has  not  been  one  tear  too  many ;  there  has  not  been  one  heartache  too  sharp ; 
there  has  not  been  one  burden  too  heavy.  Thy  cross,  O  Jesus,  hath  health  in  it,  hath  life  in  it, 
hath  sweetness  in  it.  There  only,  at  thy  cross,  that  seems  rude  and  ungainly  to  the  natural  man, 
do  we  find  beauty ;  and  there  only,  where  blood  came,  and  seeming  death,  do  we  find  life  and 
victory.  And  we  desire  not  to  shrink  in  time  to  come.  We  desire  that  aU  the  experiences  of  the 
past  may  become  teachers  to  us  for  the  future,  and  that  we  may  cease  the  everyday  asking,  "  What 
shall  we  eat?  and  what  shall  we  drink  ?"  We  desire  that  there  may  be  awakened  in  us  a  sense 
of  godlLkeness.  We  are  the  sons  of  God  ;  we  have  the  liberty  of  the  universe  ;  we  are  escaping 
out  of  thraU ;  we  are  they  that,  exiled,  and  the  King's  sons,  have  been  thrown  into  prison,  and 
made  to  love  our  jailers,  our  darkness,  and  our  degradation.  We  have  had  strange  memories 
awakened,  and  are  coming  forth  ;  and  yet  our  degradation  calls  us  back,  while  all  that  is  royal  in 
us  bids  us  escape  and  find  our  Father's  palace.  We  are  breaking  away  from  the  world,  from 
the  flesh,  from  pride,  from  the  entanglements  of  this  lower  life,  and  are  seeking  that  higher  life, 
that  nobler  flight,  that  diviner  company.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  we  niay  not  think  that 
that  is  cruelty  in  thee  which  wins  us  from  our  animosity,  from  our  revenge,  from  our  hardness 
and  obstinacy,  from  om'  self-seeking  pride,  from  our  egregious  and  weakening  vanity.  We 
heseech  of  thee  that  we  may  have  such  an  account  of  our  own  manhood  that  we  may  understand 
every  blow,  and  see,  as  thou  art  bringing  out  from  the  very  stones  the  living  lineament,  how, 
stroke  by  stroke,  and  cut  by  cut,  thou  art  freeing  us  from  the  all-encompassing  rock,  and  bringing 
us  into  beauty. 

And  may  our  hearts  not  forget  thee.  If  they  do,  may  they  be  as  the  little  child  that,  crying 
out  in  the  night,  hears  the  soothing  voice  of  father  and  mother.  May  we  hear  thy  voice  in  all 
distress,  in  all  anguish.  And  if  we  say,  "  My  God  I  my  God !  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?"  say 
thou  to  us,   "  Peace  ;  be  still.    It  is  I.    Be  not  afraid." 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  thy  divinest  blessing  to  all  that  have  come  hither  for  their  accustomed 
strength— for  their  accustomed  help.  Accept  the  thanksgiving  of  many  hearts  that  have  foimd 
this  to  be  the  house  of  God  and  the  gate  of  heaven.  Again,  O  gate,  open ;  and  come  forth,  O 
angels  of  mercy.  Drop  down  the  treasures  of  heaven  this  morning  upon  this  waiting  congrega- 
tion. May  the  needy  be  supplied.  May  the  poor  be  comforted.  May  the  weary  be  established. 
May  the  wandering  be  consciously  brought  home.  May  the  tempted  be  succored.  May  the  dis- 
pirited be  fired  again  with  hope.  Grant  that  the  aimless  ones  may  see  a  vision  in  heaven  that 
they  shall  never  lose  sight  of  again.  Grant  to  each  one  something  according  to  the  greatness  of 
thy  goodness  and  of  thy  wisdom. 

Bless,  with  us,  all  the  waiting  congregations  to-day  everywhere.  Let  thy  Word  be  spoken 
with  simplicity  and  directness  and  power,  without  fear  of  man,  but  with  great  love  of  men. 

Grant  everywhere  that  the  divine  fear  of  God,  springing  from  love,  may  rule  the  hearts  of  thy 
servants  that  are  appointed  to  teach.  Bring  together  those  that  are  seeking  the  same  great  ends. 
May  men  learn  to  bear  vrith  their  fellow-men,  and  to  appreciate  the  greatness  of  the  things  in 
which  they  agree,  and  the  smallness  of  those  in  which  they  difl'er. 

And  we  pray  that  thy  kingdom  may  come  in  all  this  land.  Bless  our  country.  Wilt  thou 
remember  schools  and  academies  and  colleges,  and  all  seminaries  of  learning  ?  Grant  that  there 
may  come  out  from  them  a  pure  and  a  sanctified  influence.  Overrule,  we  beseech  of  thee,  the 
turmoUs  and  excitements  of  the  day.  Thou  art  in  them.  Thou  that  art  In  the  cloud,  art  in  our 
darkness,  and  thou  wilt  after  the  storm  give  refreshment  and  peace. 

To  thee  we  commend  the  poor  andthe  needy.  To  thee  we  commend  the  interests  of  this 
land,  of  our  fathers'  land,  and  of  the  lands  of  the  hopeless  in  other  climes.  To  thee,  O  God  of  the 
poor  and  needy,  we  commend  this  nation.  We  pray  that  for  the  sake  of  the  needy  and  the  weak, 
for  the  sake  of  those  that  have  for  so  long  a  time  been  trodden  down  and  oppressed  by  the  rich 
and  strong,  thou  wUt  make  the  foundations  of  justice  here  immutable.  Grant  that  there  may  be 
a  love  of  all  men  established  here.  And  may  there  be  in  the  hearts  of  thy  church,  and  of  all  true 
Christian  men,  that  love  which  Jesus  bore  among  the  poor,  himself  poor,  consorting  with  them, 
and  to  them  preaching  his  Gospel. 

Let  thy  kingdom  come  everywhere.  It  hastens.  It  is  nearer  than  when  we  believed.  Tha 
sun  is  coming.  Already  twilight  is  on  the  mountains.  Thy  star  is  in  the  east.  Rise,  O  Son  of 
Highteousness,  upon  this  earth,  with  healing  in  thy  beams. 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,    AmeT\. 


V. 

Pilate  akd  his  Modeen  Imitatoes. 


PILATE,  AND  HIS  MODERN  IMITATORS. 

SUNDAY   EVENING,    OCTOBER    18,  18G8. 


"  When  Pilate  saw  tliat  lie  could  prevail  notMng,  but  that  rather  a  tumult 
■was  made,  lie  took  water,  and  washed  his  hands  before  the  multitude,  saying,  I 
am  innocent  of  the  blood  of  this  just  person  :  see  ye  to  it.  Then  answered  aU  the 
people,  and  said,  His  blood  be  on  us,  and  our  children." — Matt,  xxvii.  24,  25. 


I  DO  not  propose,  to-night,  to  go  into  the  general  history  of  this 
man  Pilate.  I  have  taken  the  last  remarkable  transaction,  the  judi- 
cial part  of  his  course,  in  order  to  call  your  attention  to  his  conduct, 
and  to  the  character  which  he  developed  in  the  trial  of  our  Master, 
Jesus  Christ. 

You  will  recollect  that,  by  a  preconcerted  arrangement,  that  bad 
man  Judas  had  shown  the  emissaries  of  the  Sanhedrim  where  the  Master 
was  accustomed  to  resort  at  night.  They  had  gone  armed ;  they  had 
arrested  him  ;  they  had  brought  him  in  the  night  to  the  high- 
priests;  they  had  hurried  through  an  informal  and  most  iniquitous 
trial,  seeking  to  suborn  the  witnesses ;  and  at  last,  skimming  over 
their  miserable  testimony,  they  had  condemned  him  for  blasphemy. 
And  if  Israel  had  been  an  independent  kingdom,  this  would  have 
been  the  end  of  his  trial ;  he  would  have  been  put  to  death  under  a 
Jewish  law,  and  probably  would  have  been  stoned  to  death.  As, 
however,  the  Roman  yoke  lay  heavily  upon  the  Jews,  they  could 
not  have  put  any  man  to  death.  It  was  necessary  that  thei'e  should 
be  another  condemnation,  or  rather  a  permission  of  execution.  And 
80,  in  the  morning,  they  gathered  themselves  together,  and  came  to 
Pilate.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  events  took  place  here,  as  it  is 
recorded  in  John's  Gospel. 

"Then  led  they  Jesus  from  Caiaphas  unto  the  hall  of  judgment; 
and  it  was  early;  and  they  themselves  went  not  into  the  judgment 
hall." 

Why  ?  Here  were  these  men  bent  on  judicial  murder.  They  had 
arrested  an  innocent  man.  They  had  ])erverted  all  their  own  forms 
of  justice  with  malignant  fanaticism.      They  had  condemned  him  to 


62  PILATE,  AND  HIS  MODERN  IMITATORS.      ' . 

death,  and  were  on  the  road  to  get  permission  to  take  his  blood. 
They  came  to  the  gate  of  the  judgment  hall,  and  would  not  enter  in. 
"Why  ?     "  Lest  they  should  he  defiled  /" 

Here  was  a  natural  scene.  The  violation  of  humanity  ;  the  vio- 
lation of  justice;  the  violation  of  all  manly  and  all  civil  instincts — 
these  real  transgressions,  that  went  right  home,  they  could  commit 
without  the  least  trouble;  but  to  go  into  a  heathen's  hall  would 
defile  them  !  This  conventional  usage,  man-made,  they  were  very 
conscientious  about ! 

And  it  is  not  a  matter  to  be  cast  by  without  reflection.  How 
many  of  us  are  willing  to  commit  sins  that  are  sins  against  nature  ;  to 
commit,  secretly  or  openly,  sins  that  touch  the  very  marrow  of  right  or 
wrong,  while  we  are  most  scrupulous  in  regard  to  things  which  are 
forbidden  by  the  laws  of  society,  but  which  have  no  moral  character ! 
There  are  many  men  that  will  indulge  in  the  most  iniquitous  selfish- 
ness ;  that  Avill  allow  themselves  to  be  ground  by  the  most  fiery 
avarice  ;  but  they  will  not  shave  on  Sunday — oh  no  !  They  will  not 
cross  the  ferry  on  Sunday — oh  no  !  Conventional  sins  bind  the  con- 
science ;  but  real  sins — how  free  they  are  in  them  ! 

So  these  men  sat  at  the  threshold  of  the  judgment  hall»  and 
would  not  go  in.  Therefore  Pilate  came  out  to  them.  Here  the 
Jews  charged  Jesus  with  disturbing  the  public  peace.  That  was  the 
first  accusation. 

"  Pilate  went  out  unto  them,  and  said,  "What  accusation  bring  ye 
against  this  man  ?  They  answered  and  said  unto  him.  If  he  were  not 
a  malefactor,  we  would  not  have  delivered  him  up  unto  thee." 

Pilate  did  not  want  to  be  troubled ;  and  supposing,  probably,  at 
the  first,  that  it  was  simply  a  matter  of  permission  to  exercise  some 
little  chastisement,  he  said — to  evade  and  avoid  it  by  turning  him 
back  on  their  own  hands — "  Take  ye  him,  and  judge  him  according 
to  your  law."  The  Jews  then  disclosed  the  full  extent  of  their  pur- 
pose ;  for  they  replied,  "  It  is  not  lawful  for  us  to  put  any  man  to 
death." 

Then  followed  an  interview  between  Pilate  and  the  Saviour.  "When 
Pilate  found  that  the  Jews  made  the  matter  so  serious,  and  were  dis- 
posed to  carry  it  so  far,  he  took  the  Saviour  and  examined  him. 

"  Then  Pilate  entered  into  the  judgment  hall  again,  and  called 
Jesus" — being  now  separated  and  apart  from  his  accusers — "  and 
said  unto  him.  Art  thou  the  king  of  the  Jews  ?  Jesus  answered  him, 
Sayest  thou  this  thing  of  thyself,  or  did  others  tell  it  thee  of  me  ? 
Pilate  answered  him,  Am  I  a  Jew  ?  Thine  own  nation  and  the  chief 
priests  have  delivered  thee  unto  me  :  what  hast  thou  done  ?  Jesus 
answered,  My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world  :  if  my  kingdom  were  of 
this  world,  then  would  my  servants  fight,  that  I  should  not  be  deliv- 
ered to  the  Jews ;  but  now  is  my  kingdom  not  far  from  hence." 


PILATE,  AND  HIS  MODEEN  IMITATORS.  63 

Pilate  seemed  to  be  entirely  satisfied  with  this  declaration  of  Je- 
sus, tliat  the  kingdom  of  which  he  considered  himself  king  was  not 
a  real  civil  estate — that  it  was  nothing  that  he  need  take  cognizance 
of,  but  some  dream,  some  poetic  notion, 

"  Pilate  therefore  said  unto  him,  Art  thou  a  king,  then  ?  Jesus 
answered,  Thou  sayest  that  I  am  a  king.  To  this  end  was  I  born, 
and  for  this  cause  came  I  into  the  world,  that  I  should  bear  witness 
unto  the  truth.  Every  one  that  is  of  the  truth  heareth  my  voice. 
Pilate  said  unto  him,  What  is  truth  ?  And  when  he  had  said  this, 
he  went  out  again  unto  the  Jews,  and  saith  unto  them,  I  find  in  him 
no  fault  at  all." 

The  whole  accusation  fell  to  the  ground.  Pilate's  interview  with 
the  Saviour  probably  convinced  him  of  two  things— ^rsi,  that  he  was 
entirely  innocent  of  any  crime  or  wrong  of  which  the  Roman  juris- 
diction could  take  any  cognizance ;  and  secondly^  that  Jesus  was  one 
of  those  impracticable  dreamers,  one  of  those  philosophers  that  was 
talking  about  things  that  might,  perhaps,  come  to  pass  wlien  poets 
should  rule  the  world,  but  that  had  nothing  to  do  with  practical  men 
or  practical  business.  This,  I  suppose,  was  about  the  judgment  that 
he  formed.  At  any  rate,  it  was  mixed  with  great  resjaect.  The 
whole  narrative  shows  that  the  bearing  of  our  Saviour,  the  indescriba- 
ble air  which  he  wore,  had  produced  a  very  strong  impression  ujDon 
the  mind  of  Pilate. 

Next,  having  attempted  to  put  back  the  Saviour  upon  the  hands 
of  the  Jews,  and  failed ;  having  examined  him  privately,  and  found 
no  cause  for  his  condemnation,  he  fell  upon  a  third  device.  The  Jews, 
when  he  came  out  and  said  this  to  them,  declared,  according  to  the 
record  of  the  event  as  set  forth  in  Luke,  that  this  man  had  stirred  up 
the  people  from  Galilee  to  Jerusalem.  That  word  Galilee  caught  his 
ear.  He  was  a  politic  man ;  he  was  a  man  that  always  looked  out 
for  the  chances ;  and  the  moment  he  heard  that  word  Galilee,  he 
thought  to  himself,  "  Then  Herod  is  the  ruler  there,  and  I  will  shift 
this  whole  trouble  ofii"  my  hands,  and  will  put  it  on  to  Herod." 

Now,  Pilate  and  Herod  had  had  a  feud.  Theirs  were  concurrent 
jurisdictions,  and  they  fell  into  quarrels  as  to  who  should  rule,  proba- 
bly. At  any  rate,  whatever  may  have  been  the  cause,  they  had  a 
feud ;  and  here  was  an  opportunity  for  Pilate  both  to  get  rid  of  a 
trouble  and  to  pay  a  compliment  to  Herod,  by  passing  the  matter 
over  to  him.  He  could  thus  kill  two  birds  with  one  stone  I  He 
therefore  sent  Jesus  to  Herod.  Herod,  we  are  told,  received  the 
message  and  the  mission  with  great  pleasure.  He  was  conciliated  by 
it.  He  had  for  a  long  time  desired  to  see  this  man.  Not  from  any 
moral  motive;  not  as  Nicodemus  desired  to  see  him;  not  from  any 
special  want,  such  as  brought  the  Syrophcenician  woman  to  our  Sa- 


64  PILATE,  AND  MIS  MODERN  IMITATORS. 

viour ;  but  he  had  a  great  curiosity  to  see  him,  as  we  hav^e  to  see  a 
wonder-worker.  He  had  heard  that  the  dead  were  raised,  that  the 
deaf  and  blind  were  cured,  and  that  sick  men,  almost  in  multitudes, 
were  restored  at  Christ's  coming  ;  and  he  hoped  that  he  would  per- 
form some  of  these  striking  works  in  his  presence.  Therefore  he  was 
very  glad.  But  our  Saviour  maintained  simplicity  and  silence.  Her- 
od marveled,  but  he  could  extract  nothing  from  him.  He  would  not 
answer  liim  at  all,  nor  perform  any  work  or  miracle.  Then  Herod's 
curiosity  ceased.  His  pride  was  touched.  Catching  the  idea  that  he 
was  accused  of  being  king  of  the  Jews,  he  j)ut  royal  purple  on  him. 
Thus  he  touched  the  sense  of  humor  in  the  rude  and  barbarous  sol- 
diers. A  poor  man,  without  any  army,  without  any  officers,  without 
any  treasure,  without  any  attendants  of  any  kind,  he  was  pulled  and 
hauled  through  the  streets,  bearing  the  royal  purple  robes,  and  wear- 
ing for  a  crown  something  plucked  from  the  hedge,  whence  were 
Been  issuing,  instead  of  rays  of  gold,  thorns  or  spikes. 

And  so  they  took  him  back,  jeering  and  laughing,  and  making, 
as  it  was  supposed,  a  royal  jest.  And  it  is  said  that  Pilate  and  Herod 
were  mtide  friends  on  that  same  day.  It  is  a  good  thing  to  make  up 
quarrels,  but  it  is  a  bad  thing  to  take  such  an  occasion  for  it.  It  is 
a  bad  thing  for  men  to  be  made  friendly  by  a  common  feeling  of 
wrong.  It  is  bad  for  friendship  to  begin  in  the  malign  passions — ^in 
the  lower  range  of  human  natui'e.  Bad  men  can  not  be  good  friends. 
Friendship  requires  that  a  man  should  be  manly,  just,  true,  right- 
minded. 

But  back  came  this  plague  to  Pilate.  The  Jews  now  charged 
the  Saviour  with  sedition.  The  accusation  is  thus  recorded  in  Luke's 
Gosisel : 

"And  they  began  to  accuse  him,  saying,  We  found  this  fellow 
perverting  the  nation,  and  forbidding  to  give  tribute  to  Ctesar,  say- 
ing that  he  himself  is  Christ  and  King." 

This  "  perverting  the  nation"  was  equivalent  to  stirring  up  oppo- 
sition to  the  government.  It  was  conspiracy.  And  the  particular 
point  of  refusing  to  pay  revenue  to  Rome  was  a  point  on  which 
Rome  was  very  sensitive.  The  declaration  that  he  was  Caesar's 
rival,  and  that  he  sought  to  make  himself  a  king — a  thing  which  was 
afterward  charged  upon  him  in  a  more  cogent  form — made  an  im- 
pression on  Pilate's  mind.  Up  to  this  point,  he  meant,  evidently, 
in  some  way  or  other  to  buy  off  the  Saviour.  One  might  naturally 
say,  "Why  did  he  tamper?  He  knew  him  to  be  innocent ;  he  knew 
him  to  be  a  just  man ;  he  had  the  full  power  in  his  hand  :  why  did 
he  not  settle  the  matter  ?"  That  is  the  very  point  on  which  Pilate's 
character  turned,  as  we  shall  see  in  a  moment.  He  then  proposed, 
as  it  were,  to  buy  the  Jews  off  by  giving  them  a  little  of  what  they 


PILATE,  AND  HIS  MODERN  IMITATORS.  65 

asked.  He  said,  "  I  find  no  evil  in  this  man.  Let  nie  chastise  him. 
Take  so  much  punishment  out  of  him.  You  are  angry,  and  want 
your  way;  but  if  you  will  let  me  scourge  him,  and  dismiss  him,  that 
will  suffice."  If  Christ  was  guilty,  he  should  have  been  condemned. 
If  he  Avas  innocent,  what  did  Pilate  want  to  scourge  him  for  ?  What 
kind  of  a  compromise  was  this  of  justice?  But  the  Jews  refused 
any  compromise.     They  asked  for  blood  ! 

Pilate  then  more  particularly  examined  the  Saviour  again ;  and 
after  a  second  interview  with  him,  being  impressed  still  further  by 
his  dignity,  and  by  the  grandeur  of  his  character  and  bearing,  he 
sought  yet  more  earnestly  to  release  him.  And  now  it  was  that  the 
Jews  threatened  Pilate. 

"  From  thenceforth  Pilate  sought;  to  release  him ;  but  the  Jews 
cried  out " — they  knew  him ;  they  knew  just  where  to  put  the  lance 
— "  if  thou  let  this  man  go,  thou  art  not  Cresar's  friend.  Whosoever 
maketh  himself  a  king,  speaketh  against  Caesar."  That  was  the 
fatal  stab.  He  could  not  withstand  that.  He  was  sensitive  in  re- 
gard to  his  reputation  at  Rome,  where  he  thought  he  might  be  impli- 
cated by  the  exposition  of  the  Jewish  people.  He  was  not  altogether 
without  reason  of  accusation.  Already  damaging  complaints  had 
gone  up  to  Caesar ;  and  the  threat  that  they  would  accuse  him  of 
taking  the  part  of  a  man  tliat  claimed  to  be  a  rival  of  Cajsar,  and 
that  taught  the  people  to  refuse  tribute — this  awakened  his  fear. 

For  political  reasons,  having  made  up  his  mind  to  permit  this 
outrageous  injustice,  and  plainly  seeing  its  odiousness,  he  desired  to 
acquit  himself  from  blame  in  the  matter,  and  he  besought  them  to 
allow  him  to  exchange  Barabbas  for  Christ  ;  but  that  was  disdain- 
fully rejected. 

He  then  called  for  a  bowl  of  water,  and  washed  his  hands  before 
the  people,  saying,  "  I  am  innocent  of  the  blood  of  this  just  person : 
see  ye  to  it." 

Oh  !  if  a  man  could  roll  off  his  deeds  on  other  men ;  if  a  man  that 
is  a  partner  with  others  could  only  roll  off  his  portion  of  crime  upon 
his  confederates,  as  easily  as  a  man  can  wash  his  hands  in  a  bowl  of 
water,  and  clean  them,  how  easy  it  would  be  for  men  to  be  cleansed 
from  their  transgressions  in  this  world ! 

Here  was  this  man  set  up  by  the  Roman  government  on  purpose 
to  secure  justice ;  he  was  sworn  to  do  it ;  and  even  without  an  oath 
manliness  should  have  led  him  to  do  it.  He  had  examined  this  case. 
It  is  declared  explicitly  that  he  knew  that  from  envy  the  Jews  had 
brought  this  man  before  him.  He  had  in  private  examination  satis- 
fied himself  that  their  accusations  were  all  false,  and  that  this  was  a 
noble  and  true  man ;  that  he  had  violated  no  law ;  that  he  was  seeking 
no   improper  end;  that  he  was  a  person  of  probity  and  purity  and 


6Q  PILATE,  AND  HIS  MODERN  IMITATORS. 

nobility.  Against  his  whole  personal  wishes,  therefore,  against  his 
own  private  conviction,  this  man,  who  was  appointed  to  secure  jus- 
tice, consented  to  let  the  Saviour  be  sacrificed.     He  gave  way. 

Now  consider  whether  this  yielding  against  his  convictions  does 
not  heighten  his  guilt.'  I  confess  that  when  you  contrast  such  a 
man  as  Judas  with  Pilate,  the  first  impulse  is  to  say  that  Judas  was 
far  the  more  wicked ;  but  if  you  stop  to  think,  you  will  perceive  that 
Judas  acted  a  low-lived,  vulgar  part.  Because  he  bribed  himself  by 
avarice,  and  because  he  was  treacherous  to  his  Master,  his  crime 
seemed  more  culpable  than  Pilate's;  but  Judas  had  an  ignoble 
nature.  It  is  not  probable  that  he  strove  within  himself  at  all  to 
resist  his  transgression.  He  acted  from  very  low  motives  because  he 
was  himself  very  low.  He  was  abundantly  and  vulgarly  criminal. 
But  here  was  a  man  of  a  much  higher  organization,  of  a  far  larger 
education,  of  clearer  moral  perceptions.  While  Judas  allowed  him- 
self to  be  gnawed  by  avarice,  Pilate  saw  that  this  man  was  just  and 
uncondemnablc  on  the  principles  of  equity.  Pilate  sinned  from  a 
higher  point,  and  with  more  deliberation,  than  Judas,  and  he  had 
better  means  of  getting  at  the  right,  and  going  right.  He  was  not 
brutal  in  the  same  sense  that  the  jiriests  were,  and  that  the  rabble 
were  Avho  went  with  them.  We  are  to  remember  that  these  men 
were  utterly  given  up  to  fanaticism,  and  were  heated  to  fury  thereby. 
And  though  this  fact  does  not  exculpate  them,  and  make  them  less 
than  guilty,  yet  they  were  brutal,  and  blinded.  But  Pilate  was  not 
blinded  nor  infuriated.  His  zeal  was  not  goaded  on  by  his  pre- 
judices. He  was  calm;  he  was  clear-headed;  he  was  calculating;  he 
did  the  whole  thing  in  cold  blood.  Judas,  it  is  believed  by  many, 
betrayed  his  Master  ex]5ecting  that  Jesus  would  elude  his  enemies  and 
escape,  while  he  should  make  a  profit  by  it.  The  priests  Avere  rabid  with 
hatred.  Pilate  was  the  only  calm  man  among  them.  He  was  cool. 
He  saw  things  just  as  they  were.  He  said  deliberately  in  himself, 
"Although  this  man  is  just  and  right,  and  all  these  men  are  his 
enemies,  and  are  infamous,  yet  it  will  not  do  for  me  to  lose  favor  at 
Kome ;"  and  so  he  sold  Christ  rather  than  lose  bis  own  political  pres^z^e. 
It  was  an  act  of  deliberation,  calm  and  cold;  and  even  if  it  was  keen 
and  sharp,  it  was  more  detestable  than  the  brutality  of  Judas  or 
the  wickedness  of  the  i^riests.  He  was  placed  where  he  was  bound 
to  maintain  justice,  and  he  violated  his  own  clear  convictions  of 
justice.  He  went  against  his  better  feelings.  He  put  ofi"upon  others 
the  deed  which  could  not  have  been  achieved  without  his  permission. 
He  was  cowardly,  hypocritical,  and  venal.  He  Avas  bribed.  Some 
men  are  bribed  in  the  palm,  and  some  men  are  bribed  in  the  head ; 
but  he  was  bribed  by  political  ambition. 

He  was  guilty,  therefore,  of  the  Avhole  transaction.     He  was  the 


PILATE,  AND  HIS  MODERN  IMITATORS,  67 

guiltiest  of  all  that  acted  in  it.  There  be  many  that  would  say  that 
he  strove  to  find  a  way  of  escape  for  the  Master.  He  showed  very 
many  kind  feelings,  it  is  true ;  but  these  things  are  the  measure  of 
liis  transgression.  If  he  had  not  seen  a  better  way  ;  if  he  had  not 
been  assured  of  the  innocence  of  the  Master ;  if  he  had  had  nothing 
to  overcome,  we  should  have  ranked  him  with  the  whole  horde  of 
transgressors :  but  the  strength  of  conviction,  the  activity  of  conscience, 
and  the  abundance  of  kind  feeling  which  he  overcame  in  giving  way 
to  the  cry  of  the  mob,  measure  the  guilt  of  Pilate.  It  needed  only  that 
he  should  attempt  to  put  a  good  face  upon  what  he  had  done  to  con- 
summate the  enormity  of  that  guilt ;  and  this  he  did  by  washing  his 
hands,  and  endeavoring  to  leave  the  impression  upon  the  minds  of 
the  people  that,  whatever  came  of  this,  he  had  cleared  himself.  It 
was  a  testimony  rather  against  than  for  his  acquittal. 

In  view  of  this  narrative,  so  far  carried  forward — fori  shall  not  go 
any  further  into  the  history  of  this  bad  man's  life — I  remark, 

1.  "Whoever  does  Avickedness  through  others  is  not  less  wicked 
than  they,  but  more.  He  is  just  as  guilty  as  if  he  had  done  it  himself 
alone  ;  and  there  is  this  added  transgression — that  he  soils  and  sullies 
other  men  in  doing  it.  There  are  men  who  think  that  their  gain  may 
be  secured  by  winking  at  wickedness,  by  permitting  it,  or  by  procuring 
it,  if  they  themselves  do  not  directly  and  personally  commit  it ;  but 
any  man  that  could  stop  iniquity,  and  permits  it  to  go  on,  and 
even  remotely  or  indirectly  takes  the  benefit  of  the  wickedness 
when  it  is  done,  is  himself  a  party  in  it,  and  is  culpable  not  only  be- 
cause it  has  his  consent,  but  because  he  permits  it  in  those  who  are  his 
agents  under  him.  There  are  many  men  who  muII  not  deliberately 
take  part  in  bad  traffic  ;  but  they  will  deliberately  lend  their  property 
for  bad  traffic,  knowing  all  the  time  the  uses  to  which  it  will  be  put. 
There  are  many  men  who  will  not  engage  in  a  direct  and  personal 
act  of  impurity,  but  who  will  permit  their  property  to  be  used  for  pur- 
poses of  the  grossest  impurity,  and  will  wash  their  hands  of  the 
Avhole  guilt  of  the  matter — as  they  think ;  but  no  man  can  wash  his 
hands  of  the  guilt  of  transgressions  which  have  his  permission,  and 
which  he  can  check  and  stop  if  he  please. 

Pilate  was  no  less  guilty  because  the  Jews  hated  the  Saviour^  be- 
cause they  condemned  him  first,  because  they  demanded  at  the  price 
of  his  political  safety  that  he  should  be  given  over  to  them,  or  because 
he  strove  against  them,  and  sought  to  persuade  them,  sought  to  com- 
promise with  them,  sought  to  exchange  victims,  and  at  last  gave  up. 
These  things  did  not  make  him  any  the  less  culpable.  The  Jews 
were  his  agents.  As  soon  as  he  said  to  them,  "  Take  him :  see  ye  to 
it,"  he  did  all  that  was  necessary  to  make  him  a  partner  in  this  vil- 
lainy. 


68  PILATE,  AXD  RIS  MODEEX  IJIITATOBS. 

2.  Evil  which  many  men  commit  together  is  not  distribntively 
"borne.  If  a  thousand  men  attempt  to  commit  a  murder,  each  man  is 
not  guilty  of  one  thousandth  part  of  that  murder ;  he  does  not  take  a 
dividend  of  it — each  man  is  guilty  of  the  whole.  If  a  great  wicked- 
ness is  done  in  any  free  community,  where  the  citizens  make  the  laws, 
make  the  magistrates,  and  make  the  policies,  no  man  that  winks  at  it 
or  consents  to  it  can  say,  "  My  share  is  but  trifling  ;  I  had  but  little 
influence  in  causing  it."'  "When  wickedness  is  done,  all  men  are 
bound  to  resist  it.  Unless  they  have  resisted  it  to  the  full  measure 
of  their  power,  they  are  culpable  for  the  Mhole  transaction.  There 
is  no  such  thing  as  a  partnership  which  shall  divide  and  distribute 
moral  guilt  and  moral  responsibility.  And  Pilate,  though  the  whole 
of  Jerusalem  stormed  about  him,  and  though  the  people  said,  *'  On 
our  heads,  and  on  our  children's,  be  this  man's  blood,"  was  just  as 
guilty  as  though  he  had  been  one  of  the  foremost  in  desiring  the  Sa- 
viour's crucifixion  and  death. 

3.  Evil  actions  are  not  less  wicked  because  they  are  done  for  rea- 
sons of  state — reasons  of  party ;  in  short,  for  political  reasons.  This 
man,  Pilate,  condemned,  or  sufl'ered  to  be  condemned,  the  Saviour. 
He  sacrificed  the  whole  spirit  of  the  Roman  law,  and  of  xiniversal 
humanity;  and  the  reason  was  what  seemed  to  him  to  be  the  exigen- 
cies of  the  government.  He  did  it  from  political  considerations. 
That  same  tendency  lives  yet.  Parties  will  do  things  which  no  hon- 
orable man  in  that  party  will  ever  do  alone.  Men  will  consent  to  do, 
or  to  have  done,  in  party  relations,  that  which,  if  they  stood  alone  in 
the  community,  they  would  scorn  ineti:ably.  Men  will  still  maintain 
their  connection  with  parties  and  with  men  in  them  that  do  monstrous 
iniquities ;  and  the  sophistry  is  this :  that  it  is  done  from  public  con- 
siderations ;  as  if  that  changed  the  essential  nature  of  right  or  wrong  ! 
as  if  that  changed  the  responsibility  of  the  individual  actors  in  a 
party  I  Pilate  could  not  say  that  he  was  less  culpable  because  he 
acted  as  he  did  from  political  considerations. 

4.  Wickedness  which  a  man  can  prevent,  and  which  he  does  not 
prevent,  inculpates  him.  "We  are  not  morally' responsible  simply  for 
the  wickedness  which  we  do,  but  for  the  wickedness  which  we  can  pre- 
vent as  well.  Of  com"se,  you  can  not  judge  this  by  the  same  rules  by 
which  you  can  judge  many  other  departments  in  ethics ;  nevertheless, 
it  is  an  important  truth  to  bear  in  mind, that  men  are  responsible  for 
the  mischief  which  they  could  hinder.  If  you  put  the  torch  to  your 
neighbor's  house,  you  are  gnilty  in  one  way ;  but  if  another  puts  the 
torch  to  that  house,  and  you  go  by,  and  see  the  flames,  and  say,  "It 
is  not  my  business  ;  I  did  not  kindle  that  fire ;  and,  besides,  he 
is  an  enemy  of  mine,"  you  are  as  culpable  as  if  you  had  set  fire  to  the 
house  yourself.    If  you  are  impelled  by  a  feeling  of  animosity,  and  you 


PILATE,  AND  MIS  MODERN  IMITATORS.  69 

strike  a  dagger  to  a  rival's  breast,  of  course  you  are  a  murderer  and 
an  assassin ;  and  if  you  know  that  another  man  is  going  to  do  it,  and  do 
not  interfere  and  stop  him  ;  if  you  permit  the  act  to  go  on  under  your 
eye  without  raising  your  voice  or  lifting  a  finger,  then  you  become  a 
party  in  the  crime,  and  the  guilt  rests  on  you.  Men  bring  upon 
themselves  the  guilt,  either  in  part  or  in  whole,  of  whatever  evil  they 
can  stop  and  do  not  stop. 

This  is  a  fearful  principle  for  men  that  live  in  a  free  state.  It  is  a 
terrible  responsibility  that  it  brings  upon  Christian  men  who  live  in 
such  cities  ai? New-York  and  Brooklyn,  where  wickedness  is  rampant ; 
where  it  corrupts  the  very  foundations  of  life ;  where  it  threatens  to 
destroy  the  very  government  itself;  where  it  makes  the  names  of 
judges  odious;  where  it  makes  courts  a  by-word  and  a  hissing  ;  where 
it  makes  legislatures  wicked  beyond  expression ;  where  it  degrades 
laws,  and  constitutions,  and  every  thing  venerable  and  influential.  Our 
cities  are  filled  with  moral  men ;  but  they  are  so  bent  upon  gain  that, 
though  they  see  this  deplorable  state  of  things,  no  one  cares  for  it,  or 
no  one  is  willing  to  take  the  trouble  and  labor,  and  to  expend  the 
time  and  the  i^atience,  which  are  required  for  its  correction.  But  citi- 
zens who  seek  their  own  private  welfare  and  j^eace  in  the  city,  know- 
ing that  great  iniquities  are  eating  out  the  life  of  the  municipal  go- 
vernment, are  themselves  culpable.  You  do  not  yourselves  take  part 
nor  lot  in  the  wrong  that  is  being  enacted  around  about  you,  but  you 
know  men  who  are  doing  it ;  and  you  are  as  much  bound  to  defend 
the  community  as  any  man  in  it. 

I  am  waked  up  in  the  night.  I  hear  the  cry  of  my  children.  I 
hear  my  venerable  parent  shriek  for  help.  There  is  blood  in  the 
house !  But  I  gather  the  bed-clothes  over  my  head,  and  lie,  saying 
"Xo  danger  can  come  to  me ;  my  door  is  locked  and  tightly  bolted." 
And  in  the  morning  the  father  is  gone,  and  the  mother  is  gone,  and 
the  children  are  gone  !  And  I  get  up  stained  with  blood.  I  that 
heard  the  outcry,  I  that  should  have  given  the  alarm  and  summoned 
help,  I  that  should  have  died  with  them  rather  than  suffered  them 
to  die — shall  I  stand  up  and  say,  " Their  blood  is  not  on  me"  ?  Their 
blood  is  on  me.  And  men  that  live  together,  especially  in  self-govern- 
ing communities  like  our  own,  and  that  tolerate  monstrous  iniquities 
and  sins  which  are  eating  out  the  morals  of  society,  and  that  give  en- 
couragement to  men  who  ought  not  to  go  un whipped  of  justice,  and 
that  see  our  City  Hall  filled  with  men  who  should  have  been  in  Sing 
Sing  or  in  Auburn,  and  that  permit  the  chief  jDublic  ofiiccs  to  go  into 
the  hands  of  men  who  are  guilty  of  almost  every  crime  in  the  calen- 
dar, and  that  wink  at  wickedness,  and  continue  to  do  it,  saying  they 
have  so  much  to  attend  to  that  they  can  not  meddle  with  these  sol- 
id subjects — these  men  take  upon  themselves  a  part  of  the  guilt.    The 


70  PILATE,  AND  HIS  MODERN  IMITATORS. 

■wickedness  that  men  miglit  prevent,  and  that  they  do  not  strive,  ac- 
cording to  the  measure  of  their  power,  to  prevent,  they  take  the  re- 
sponsibility of. 

It  seems  to  me  that  it  is  "by  the  government  of  bad  men  that  you 
and  I  are  burdened  with  taxes.  And  yet,  these  very  men  talk  about  the 
taxes  of  the  Federal  Government  which  are  imposed  on  poor  men.  The 
very  men  that  are  unwilling  to  pay  the  taxes  Avhich  were  occasioned 
by  su^iporting  the  soldier  in  maintaining  the  life  of  this  government, 
will  permit  themselves  to  be  taxed  for  rum,  will  consent  to  be  taxed 
to  rej^air  the  wastes  of  dissipation,  will  cheerfully  plunge  their  arms 
to  their  very  shoulders  into  their  pockets  and  pay  taxes  for  the  sake 
of  supporting  lazy  men,  drunken  men,  criminals,  that  are  as  thick 
around  about  us  as  flies  in  summer — will  see  vice  and  crime  levy 
taxes  on  the  community  and  on  them  in  such  a  way  as  to  take  every 
thing  from  them,  and  will  not  complain ;  but  when  they  are  called 
upon  to  pay  honest  taxes  to  support  the  government  itself,  and  to 
preserve  the  very  life  of  the  nation,  they  hold  up  their  hands  in  holy 
horror,  and  try  to  cut  the  taxes  down.  They  look  at  the  national 
debt,  and  turn  it  around,  to  see  if,  by  some  trick  or  device,  by  some 
means  or  other,  they  can  not  make  it  unpayable,  or  less  payable,  or 
meanly  payable,  or  if  there  is  not  some  way  in  which  they  can  get 
rid  of  the  blame  of  incurring  it.  And  they  wash  their  hands  and  say, 
"  I  am  not  responsible  for  this  state  of  things.  It  was  that  body  of 
men,  it  was  that  committee,  it  was  that  treasurer,  that  brought  it 
about.  They  did  not  manage  right."  But  oh  !  no  man  in  the  court 
of  honor,  no  man  in  the  court  of  history,  no  man  certainly  in  the 
chancery  of  heaven,  who  has  been  on  earth  for  the  last  fifty  years, 
can  escape  the  condemnation  ! 

But  why  are  men  so  particular  about  taxes  ?  "When  we  say  that 
laziness  should  be  made  a  punishable  crime,  men  cry,  "  You  are  med- 
dling with  people's  liberties !"  If  I  preach  temperance,  and  urge 
the  shutting  up  of  grog-shops  on  the  Sabbath,  and  attempt  to  limit 
and  restrain  those  wild  and  stormy  oceans  of  drink  whose  devouring 
waves  are  throwing  their  spray  into  the  aii',  men  deride  me  and  say, 
"  Why  do  you  not  preach  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus  ?  Why  do  you 
not  mind  your  own  business  ?  What  are  you  meddling  with  things 
that  do  not  concern  you  for  ?"  Because  the  duty  rests  on  me  of  see- 
ing to  it  that  the  state  is  safe,  and  that  men  are  not  devoured. 
"  But,"  say  they,  "  what  have  you  to  do  with  them  ?  They  do  not 
belong  to  you."  They  do !  There  is  not  a  man  in  this  city  who 
does  not  belong  to  me.  No  man  is  born  of  woman  that  does  not 
belong  to  me.  Every  man  is  my  brother.  He  is  my  fellow-traveler, 
and  he  is  making  the  same  journey  that  I  am.  He  has  the  same  God 
that  I  have ;  and  my  God  will  not  acquit  me  if  I  leave  deadly  sin 


PILATE.  AND  HIS  MODERN  IMITATORS.  71 

on  my  brother  without  doing  my  best  to  cleanse  him  from  taint  and 
damao-e.  It  is  not  because  I  like  to  meddle,  but  because  woe  is  on 
me  if  I  see  transgressions  in  the  community  and  do  not  seek  to  heal 
them. 

There  is  another  point.  This  makes  me  a  Puritan.  I  had  rather 
be  a  Puritan  than  a  Pilate.  What  is  a  Pilate  ?  A  Pilate  is  one  of 
those  courtly  gentlemen,  polished,  tasteful,  expert,  who  is  not  dis- 
turbed nor  warped  by  convictions  in  over-measure  ;  who  looks  upon  all 
moral  qualities  as  a  gambler  looks  upon  cards,  which  he  shuffles,  and 
plays  according  to  the  exigency  of  his  game — and  one  just  as  easy  as 
another.  A  Pilate  is  a  man  who  believes  in  letting  things  have  their 
own  way.  "  Do  not  sacrifice  yourself.  Do  not  get  in  the  Avay  of  a 
movement.  Do  the  best  thing.  Live  in  peace  with  your  time.  Be 
not  like  the  fool,  who  stands  in  his  own  light.  Maintain  good  apjjear- 
ances — that  is  profitable.  See  to  it  that  you  do  not  go  too  far,  one 
way  or  another.  Study  the  interest  of  Number  One  all  through. 
And,  whatever  comes,  see  that  you  come  out  uppermost.  Do  not  be 
gross,  brutal,  fanatical — that  is  not  profitable.  Preserve  your  bal- 
ance. See  that  you  keep  your  eye  on  the  chances.  If  they  go  this 
way,  you  go  with  them  far  enough  to  reap  them.  If  they  go  the  other 
way,  go  with  them.  Do  not  be  too  scrupulous.  Be  just  enough  so 
to  gain  your  ends.  Use  men,  use  events,  use  every  thing  that  is  pro- 
fitable. Do  not  use  your  conscience  too  much !"  This  is  the  lan- 
guage of  the  Pilates  of  our  day.  Those  men  who  ride  astride  of  the 
times,  and  of  administrations,  and  of  policies;  those  men  who  are 
polished,  cold,  calculating,  speculating — these  are  the  Pirates — the 
Pilates^  I  mean  !  It  was  a  blunder  of  the  lip  ;  but,  after  all,  it  hit 
right ! 

Then  over  against  them  is  the  Puritan,  much  despised.  What  is 
a  Puritan  ?  Historically  considered,  he  is  a  man  that  is  very  obsti- 
nate, to  be  sure,  and  oftentimes  fanatical,  to  be  sure ;  but  generally 
the  Puritan  is  that  man  who  seeks  the  welfare  of  the  state,  and  who 
secures  it  by  purity,  and  faith,  and  justice.  He  is  the  man  who  is  in 
earnest  to  have  public  afiairs  conducted  in  accordance  with  morals 
and  religion.  And  of  course  he  has  arrayed  against  him  all  men  that 
are  basilar ;  all  men  of  passions  and  of  appetites ;  all  men  who  are 
interested  in  crooked  ways,  and  who  complain  when  crooked  ways 
are  made  straight.  The  man  who  is  in  earnest  to  have  things  equit- 
able, and  who  is  willing  to  sufier,  and  make  others  sufier  if  need  be, 
for  the  sake  of  making  the  community  industrious,  for  the  sake  of 
building  up  the  poor,  and  establishing  them  in  equity,  and  defending 
them  from  mischief — he  is  a  Puritan.  The  man  Avho  goes  still  higher, 
and  demands  that  men  shall  conform  to  law,  and  who,  in  determining 
what  is  law,  insists  that  righteous  laws  among  men  shall  be  tested 


72  PILATE,  AND  HIS  MODERN  IMITATORS. 

by  the  higlier  law,  by  God's  law,  is  a  Puritan.  The  man  that  brings 
down  the  highest  standards  of  individual  character,  and  the  highest 
standards  of  national  character,  and  measures  them  by  the  divine 
standard,  is  a  Puritan.  The  man  that  is  in  earnest,  and  will  not  be 
daunted  by  threats  or  persuaded  by  compromises,  but  works  in  earnest 
to  carry  out  his  notions  in  the  community,  is  a  Puritan. 

There  is  your  grim  Puritan— a  man  that  knows  how  to  be  grim 
if  he  is  called  to  do  battle  against  wicked  men.  There  is  your  un- 
compromising Puritan — a  man  that  can  be  uncompromising  when  cir- 
cumstances require  it.  If  you  are  going  to  cut  cold  iron,  you  must 
have  cold  steel  to  do  it  Avitli ;  and  if  you  are  going  to  do  the  Lord's 
work  among  wicked  men,  you  must  be  unflinching.  There  are  times 
when  you  must  seem  stern  and  even  cruel. 

Such  are  the  men  that  have  made  their  mark  upon  the  world  for 
its  benefit. 

But  oh !  the  Pilates — they  laugh  at  them.  These  smooth-faced 
men  ;  these  men  that  wink  at  the  Dutch,  and  wink  at  the  Ii'ish,  and 
wink  at  the  Ping,  and  every  thing  iniquitous,  and  are  polishetl,  affix- 
ble,  noble  gentlemen — oh,  how  guilty  they  are !  And  by  as  much  as 
they  know  better,  by  as  much  as  they  have  better  reason,  by  as  much 
as  they  have  revelations  of  conscience  from  various  sources,  by  so 
much  is  their  wickedness  increased. 

And  the  men,  on  the  other  hand,  who  do  not  believe  in  tolerating 
transgression — how  homely  they  seem  !  how  inhospitable  they  seem ! 
how  narroAV  and  fanatical  they  seem !  Men  that  build  foundations 
from  under  upward  are  not  the  most  comely  of  men  to  look  upon. 
The  dancing-master,  that  is  dressed  up  and  that  diddles  and  fiddles 
in  his  handsomely  finished  chamber,  despises  the  mason  who  lays 
the  walls  which  support  the  house,  and  whose  hands  are  dirty,  and 
whose  clothes  are  soiled  and  torn.  But,  after  all,  the  foundation 
men  are  tlie  men  that  build  states.  They  are  the  men  on  whom  the 
state  can  lean. 

Woe  to  the  Pilates  !  God  bless  the  Puritans  !  I  wish  there  were 
more  of  them.  I  wish  Puritans  begot  Puritans.  I  wish  our  towns 
and  cities  were  filled  with  them.  I  wish  men  who  feel  that  it  is  a 
reproach  to  be  called  a  Puritan,  would  understand  the  dignity  of 
such  a  reproach.  Men  that  Avill  not  suffer  sins  upon  the  state  ;  men 
that  stand  by  their  princii^les  and  will  not  suffer  injustice  on  the  un- 
friended— these  are  the  men  that  would  shed  their  blood  rather  than 
that  the  poorest  and  lowest  in  society  should  be  oppressed  or  wronged. 
These  are  the  men  to  whom  justice  and  rectitude  mean  something — 
to  whom  they  are  more  precious  than  life  itself. 

Here  was  this  politic  Pilate,  who  would  rather  do  right  than 
wrong,  but  who  would  rather  do  wrong  than  not  seek  his  own  interest. 


PILATE,  AND  HIS  MODERN  IMITAT0B8.  73 

We  have  Pilates  enough  yet — plenty  of  them.  Call  them,  and  they 
will  come  to  you  from  every  community  and  from  every  jjarty.  You 
never  can  fail  to  find  them.  But  Avhen  the  times  are  dark,  and  com- 
munities are  disturbed,  and  unpurged  evils  are  afflicting  the  whole 
t)ody  politic,  oh,  for  the  physicians  !  oh,  for  the  men  that  will  not 
spare  the  patient  because  they  mean  kindly  by  him  !  oh,  for  the  men 
xhat  dare  tell  Avhat  is  the  matter,  and  dare  put  the  medicine  to  the  ill ! 

Time  has  rolled  on,  and  we  are  familiar  with  the  character  of  the 
Pilate  of  eighteen  hundred  years  ago ;  but  what  we  Avant  to  see  in 
our  own  times  is  men  of  nerve ;  men  of  unflinching  constancy  ;  men 
that  shall  stand  up  as  witnesses  against  the  Christ-betraying  Pilates  ; 
men  that  believe  in  morality ;  men  that  believe  in  the  fundamental 
qualities  of  goodness  in  the  citizen  ;  men  that  will  not  for  the  sake  of 
party,  or  for  any  consideration  whatever,  be  bought  ofl" or  persuaded 
away  from  things  that  seem  to  them  right ;  men  that  will  not  betray 
Christ  again,  remembering  his  declaration,  "  Inasmuch  as  ye  have 
done  it  unto  one  of  the  least  of  these,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me.' 

He  who  will  to-day  give  up  the  poor  emancipated  black  man  for 
the  sake  of  the  prosperity  of  the  white  men  who  need  no  nursing 
and  no  nourishing,  is  a  Pilate.  He  who  will  take  sides  against  the 
Indians,  and,  having  violated  treaties  made  with  them,  and  commit- 
ted outrages  upon  them  on  the  frontiers,  will  call  for  blood  upon 
them,  is  a  Pilate.  He  who  will  permit  the  poor  in  the  community 
where  he  is  to  be  fleeced  and  overborne ;  he  who  will  permit  the  pow- 
er of  commerce  or  illicit  pleasures  to  sweep  away  the  men  around 
about  him,  mourning  and  saying,  "  It  is  too  bad,  but  I  can  do  noth- 
ing to  remedy  it" — he  is  a  Pilate. 

Oh !  for  men  that  will  follow  Christ,  and  will  die  for  tlie  world, 
but  will  not  live  for  themselves  !  How  august  was  the  meek  and 
quiet  Suficrer  !  There  was  that  kingly  man.  The  whole  Roman  em- 
pire was  at  his  feet.  He  could  call,  and  armies  would  come.  All  in- 
signia of  honor  and  glory  were  about  him.  Here  was  the  Sa- 
viour, bound  in  contemptuous  royal  purple,  and  compelled  to  Avear  a 
crown  of  thorns.  Look  back  upon  that  tableau  of  Israel.  See  that 
all  the  beauty  and  grandeur  was  on  the  side  of  the  low,  the  aban- 
doned, the  persecuted,  the  destroyed ;  and  that  all  the  light  Avas  false, 
and  all  the  seeming  power  was  illusive,  which  made  Pilate  appear 
greater  than  he  really  Avas. 

History  acts  itself  over  again.  They  that  are  first  shall  he  last, 
and  they  that  are  last  may  be  first. 

God  grant  that  in  looking  upon  our  duty,  and  what  needs  to  be 
done,  and  what  needs  to  be  hindered,  we  may  have  quiet  courage, 
purity  of  purpose,  and  patience  in  the  execution  of  that  Avhich  is 
right.     And  God  grant  that  the  Puritan  may  live  again,  and  that 


74  PILATE,  AND  HIS  MODEBN  IMITATORS. 

the  state  may  be  as  renowned  and  glorious  as  states  became  un- 
der the  reforming  hand  of  the  Puritans  of  old. 


PRATER    BEFORE   THE    SERMON. 

We  thank  thee,  our  heavenly  Father,  that  we  are  not  come  upon  an  errand  of  persuasion  as 
unto  one  that  is  reluctant  or  unwilling  to  give.  Our  good  is  already  the  evidence  of  thy  willing- 
ness that  we  should  come.  It  is  by  thy  Spirit  that  we  are  drawn.  Thou  art  granting  us  the 
sense  of  spiritual  need.  From  thee  is  that  illumination  hy  which  we  see  things  that  are  right,  and 
see  how  far  we  deviate  from  them.  The  impugnings  of  our  conscience  spring  from  thy  divine  in- 
fluence. Our  yearnings  for  things  better,  and  our  Teachings  out  toward  them,  are  all  of  thee. 
Whatever  there  is  of  true  light,  whatever  there  is  that  would  take  hold  upon  nobler  and  nobler 
experiences,  is  the  fruit  of  thy  shining  upon  the  soul.  How  waste  and  how  barren  is  man  1  and 
how  hopeless  of  culture  would  he  be  if  it  were  not  for  thy  divine  influence  I  And  when  thou  hast 
taken  us  in  hand,  and  art  Husbandman  to  us  ;  when  thou  hast  begun  thy  royal  tillage  in  us,  how 
Blow  are  we  in  growing,  how  poor  is  the  return  which  we  make,  and  how  poor  is  the  fruit  that 
hangs  upon  the  bough  1 

We  thanli  thee,  thou  tliat  art  patient  in  over-measure,  beyond  our  comprehension— thou  that 
dost  dwell  in  an  infinite  mercy,  and  surround  thyseh"  with  good  works  of  kindness  and  of  love. 

O  Lord,  our  God,  we  confess  to  thee  all  our  evil ;  all  our  unworthiness  ;  aU  that  is  weak  in  U3 
from  infirmity  ;  all  our  transgressions,  even  the  most  heinous.  We  desire  to  hide  none  of  these 
from  thine  eyes,  nor  from  our  own.  We  would  look  upon  the  face  of  our  sins,  and  acknowledge 
them,  and  turn  away  from  them,  and  be  cured  of  every  desire  that  leads  us  to  them.  Grant  that 
we  may  every  day,  more  than  for  silver  or  for  gold,  more  than  for  food  or  for  raiment,  crave  those 
dispositions  which  shall  make  us  worthy  to  be  called  the  sons  of  God.  May  we  count  nothing  so 
precious  to  us  as  that  which  makes  us  better.  May  we  look  upon  life  as  but  for  this  end.  In  all 
our  gettings,  may  we  get  understanding.  Whatever  we  lose,  so  that  we  retain  thy  favor,  may  we 
consider  ourselves  rich  ;  and  whatever  we  gain,  if  by  it  we  foil  of  thy  favor,  may  we  consider  our- 
selves poor.  Grant  that  we  may  see  from  day  to  day  thy  work  growing  in  more  tenderness  of  con- 
science, in  more  gentleness  of  disposition,  in  more  fruitfulness  of  a  true  beneficence.  May  we 
more  and  more  know  the  sacred  word  of  life,  not  for  ourselves,  but  for  others.  May  we  follow 
thee,  if  need  be,  through  sorrow.  May  we  not  be  afraid  of  the  cross  of  Christ.  May  we  desire 
to  bear  it.  May  we  desire  to  take  reproach  for  his  sake.  May  we  become  like  him  in  rebuking 
aU  evil ;  in  seeking  to  heal  it ;  in  being  witnesses  against  it. 

And  grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  friendship  in  our  day  and  generation  may  make  the  world  better. 
Though  our  place  be  small,  though  our  labor  be  obscure,  may  we  remember  that  God  beholds, 
and  that  one  day  whatever  is  known  in  secret  shall  be  known  openly.  May  we,  therefore,  toil  on 
against  discouragement,  and  overcome  it,  having  faith  in  thee.  Bear  around  about  us,  we  beseech 
of  thee,  the  light  of  a  heavenly  home.  Give  beforehand  some  of  its  fruit  to  us,  that  we  may  go 
through  the  world  nourished  and  strengthened.  Grant  that,  our  footsteps  being  planted  in  sor- 
row, we  may  as  strangers  and  pilgrims  hasten  on.  And  we  pray  thee  that,  as  we  bear  burdens, 
and  experience  pains,  and  know  temptations,  we  may  see  that  this  is  not  our  home.  And  may  we 
not  seek  those  things  which  look  toward  permanence  here.  May  we  be  weaned  of  building 
tabernacles  here.  May  we  look  away  to  that  land  where  for  the  first  time  we  shall  find  a  home 
inijeed— deathless,  without  stain  or  spot,  and  filled  with  overflowing  light. 

Grant  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  every  one  in  thy  presence.  Give  wisdom  to  the  conscience 
that  is  burdened.  Give  light  to  all  that  are  darkened.  Give  to  every  one  that  needs  confirmation 
the  word  of  faith.  Disclose  thyself  to  those  that  look  for  thee  and  cannot  find  thee.  Grant  that 
those  who  are  seeking  the  right  way  may  be  led  by  the  very  hand  of  God,  and  find  the  way  of  wisdom. 
May  those  that  are  tempted  be  able  to  resist  temptation.  May  those  that  are  fallen  not  be  destroy- 
ed.   May  they  be  lifted  up  by  the  mercy  of  God,  and  turn  to  better  ways. 

We  pray  that  the  careless  may  be  rebuked,  and  that  none  may  count  themselves  unworthy  of 
eternal  life.  Revive  thy  work  in  this  church,  in  the  hearts  of  all  that  are  in  it,  in  all  our  churches, 
and  throughout  the  land. 

Bless  schools  and  colleges,  bless  magistrates,  and  all  laws ;  and  grant  that  they  may  be  foun- 
tains of  justice  and  purity.  And  may  this  whole  people  be  regenerated,  and  become  a  God-fear- 
ing people.  And  may  this  nation,  by  its  prosperity,  be  a  witness  for  the  people  of  Christ  on  earth. 

Let  thy  kingdom  come  everywhere.  Let  thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.  And 
to  thy  name  shaU  he  the  praise,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Amn, 


VI. 

The  Strong  to  Beau  with  the  Weak 


THE  STRONG  TO  BEAR  WITH  THE  WEAK. 

SUNDAY  MORNING,  OCTOBER  25,   1868. 


"  We  then  tliat  are  strong  ought  to  bear  the  infirmities  of  the  weak,  and  not 
to  please  ourselves." — Rom:,  xv.  1. 


That  is  to  say,  turn  human  conduct  perfectly  around,  so  that  the 
bottom  of  the  circle  shall  be  on  the  top.  Do  exactly  what  men  never 
do ;  and  do  not  do  as  men  always  and  everywhere  do.  The  strong 
make  the  weak  do  the  bearing.  The  command  of  the  Apostle  is,  "  We 
that  are  strong  ought  to  bear  the  infirmities  of  the  weak,  and  not  to 
please  ourselves." 

Paul  frequently  treats  special  cases  by  applying  to  them  general 
princijDles.  No  mistake  can  be  greater,  therefore,  than  to  argue  that 
because  the  case  is  special  the  remedy  or  jjrincii^le  is  likewise  sj)ecial ; 
and  that  the  application  of  it  in  a  wider  sphere  is  a  stretching  of  the 
ai:)Ostolic  teaching.  For  he  takes  general  principles  and  gives  them 
special  applications ;  and  we  have  a  perfect  right  to  go  back  from 
the  special  to  the  general  again. 

The  case  in  hand  is  an  illustration.  There  are  three  stages  of  de- 
velopment, of  which  we  can  form  a  distinct  conception,  in  human  life 
and  society.  The  first  is  that  in  which  men  regulate  their  life  by 
rules.  Actions  are  classified.  Men  do  not  concern  themselves  with 
the  reasons  of  them,  nor  with  the  principles ;  but  things  are  classified. 
Such  things  you  may  do,  and  such  things  you  may  not  do.  This  is 
the  lowest ;  and  therefore  the  Ten  Commandments  are  the  literature' 
of  the  lowest  stage  of  human  development.  Many  persons  suppose 
that  the  Ten  Commandments  are  a  part  of  Scripture  that  stands  far  up, 
and  that  they  will  last  forever.  They  will  last  forever,  because 
children  are  being  born  forever,  and  society  begins  over  again,  as  it 
were,  at  the  very  starting-point,  and  needs  rules  at  the  new  begin- 
ning. The  Ten  Commandments  are  the  literature  for  a  period  of  rules 
— rules  being  the  lowest ;  that  is,  not  a  period  at  which  men  are  obe- 
dient and  good  for  given  reasons,  and  talk  and  act  according  to  those 

Lesson  :  Eomans  xiv.    Hymns  (Plymouth  Collection) :  Nos.  498,  494,  988. 


76  THE  STBONa  TO  BEAR   WITH  THE  WEAK. 

reasons,  but  a  period  at  Avliich  they  "blindly  say,  "  Such  things  shall 
be  done,"  or,  "  Such  things  shall  not  be  done." 

Next  higher  is  a  life  of  pi'inciple.  When  men,  not  despising 
actions  that  are  customary  or  conventional,  not  despising  rules,  open 
uj)  a  consideration  of  the  grounds  and  reasons  of  rules — of  the  wJiy 
you  shall  do  so,  and  the  tohy  you  shall  not  do  so  ;  when,  in  addition 
to  these  rules,  they  add  a  power  of  adjusting  their  life  by  certain 
great  principles,  then  they  have  developed  a  higher  degree  of  men- 
tality, not  only,  but  they  are  living  in  a  higher  sphere. 

There  is  one  development  higher  than  that.  It  is  reached  when 
to  both  of  the  foregoing — namely,  rules  and  i:)rinciples — is  added  in- 
tuition, the  prophetic  flash  by  which  men  discover  right  and  wrong 
by  their  harmony  or  their  discord  with  their  own  moral  faculties. 
The  great  mass  of  the  world  are  yet  in  the  first  stage.  They  are 
governed  by  rules,  as  far  as  they  are  governed  at  all ;  and  they 
must  continue  to  be  goveimed  by  rules,  these  being  adapted  to  their 
condition. 

The  greatest  portion  of  civilized  nations  are  in  the  second  stage  ; 
that  is,  they  are  more  and  more  governing  their  conduct,  their  dispo- 
sition, and  their  whole  life  by  certain  great  principles,  which  they 
themselves  are  applying  from  day  to  day. 

There  are  but  single  individuals,  and  they  only,  as  it  were,  in  a 
few  particulars,  that  have  attained  the  third  stage.  This  is,  indeed, 
to  constitute  the  next  grand  development;  and  the  religion  of  the 
future  is  to  be  found  in  this  direction.  Men  that  are  crying,  "  Lo  ! 
here,  and  lo !  there,"  looking  out  for  a  religion  of  the  future,  and 
wanting  to  know  whether  it  can  not  be  made  by  a  certain  union  of  all 
the  sects,  or  whether  it  can  not  be  made  by  a  certain  prescriptive  ser- 
vice, or  from  the  scientific  alembic,  or  whether  it  will  come  from  this  or 
that  direction — these  men,  it  seems  to  me,  never  heard  the  word  of 
the  Lord,  saying,  "The  kingdom  of  God  is  within  you,"  and  that 
the  religion  of  the  future  is  to  be  a  certain  higher  possibility  of  men- 
tal economy.  And  when  men,  by  training,  have  received  hereditary 
tendencies,  and  carried  them  on  through  genei'ations  in  moral  direc- 
tions, so  that  there  shall  be  a  moral  susceptibility — and  carried  them, 
too,  with  such  power  that  they  shall  have  this  intuition  or  prophetic 
glance — then  they  will  begin  to  discern  higher  elements  of  right  and 
higher  lines  of  duty,  and  will  be  sure  neither  to  be  in  antagonism 
with  men  that  act  by  principles,  nor  to  be  in  antagonism  with  men 
that  act  by  rules. 

A  water-fowl  can  walk  on  the  land  ;  and  it  is  a  very  good  way 
to  get  along,  as  distinguished  from  a  stone's  way  of  getting  along — 
which  is  to  stand  still.  And  yet,  when  a  duck's  legs  are  in  the  water, 
they  become  the  wings  of  the  sea ;   and  how  much  more  graceful  a 


THE  STRONG   TO  BEAR   WITH  TEE  WEAK.  77 

duck  is  in  the  watei*  than  on  the  land  !  The  swimming  is  no  pre- 
judice to  the  walking;  it  is  more  graceful  and  potential  than  the 
W' alking.  But  when  the  hunter's  cry  is  heard,  and  the  bird  drops  the 
one  and  the  other,  and  tries  the  upper  ocean,  and  rises  far  above  the 
fowler's  aim  and  reach,  and  wings  its  way  whithersoever  it  will,  then 
flying  is  better  than  either  swimming  or  walking.  And  yet,  fly- 
ing is  no  i^rejudice  to  swimming,  as  swimming  is  no  prejudice  to 
Avalkiug. 

Now,  there  will  be  a  time  when  men  will  act  by  moral  intuition ; 
but  that  will  not  be  to  the  prejudice  of  acting  by  principle.  And 
acting  by  principle  is  not  to  the  prejudice  of  acting  by  customs  or 
rules.  They  all  cohere,  or  adapt  themselves  severally,  in  their  func- 
tions, to  the  varying  wants  and  conditions  of  human  life  and  human 
develoiDment.  Neither  will  he  who  will  some  day  be  so  sensitively 
organized  in  moral  elements  that  he  will,  by  its  harmony  or  discord 
with  his  feelings,  know  what  is  right  or  wrong,  on  that  account  cease 
to  use  principles  or  rules,  and  to  respect  them,  although  they  will  act 
respectively  in  lower  spheres  than  that  of  intuition. 

Here  I  enter  my  protest  against  those  who,  in  the  name  of  moral  in- 
tuition, follow  their  own  erratic  fancies.  Not  every  efl:ervescence  of 
the  brain  is  a  moral  intuition,  nor  every  strange  sensation.  Some 
men  think  ;  and  then  they  think,  "  That  is  a  novel  idea  ;"  and  they  call 
it  an  angelic  one.  They  mistakenly  call  those  thoughts  Avhich  they 
are  not  able  to  define  or  limit,  intuitions ;  and  yet  is  it  to  be  rudely 
said  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  intuition  ? 

This  whole  question  of  moral  intuition  is  a  question  largely  of  the 
future.  There  are  some  things  that  we  know  about  it ;  but  the  sub- 
ject itself  is  yet  in  its  obscurity.  It  is,  however,  coming  to  light. 
There  is  to  be  a  time  when  men  will  overtoj)  the  prophets  themselves. 
And  it  shall  come  to  pass  that  the  last  and  the  least  in  the  kingdom 
of  the  future  will  be  greater  than  the  greatest  in  the  kingdom  of  the 
past. 

Now,  there  are  certain  experiences  which  result  from  the  grada- 
tions of  education.  As  men  are  going  up  along  the  scale  of  education, 
they  change  gradually ;  and  men  that  during  all  the  early  part  of 
their  life  have  been  subject  to  rules,  and  governed  by  them,  begin 
to  substitute  their  own  intelligence  for  them.  A  little  child  is  told, 
"  No,  you  must  not  go  there."  Perhaps  it  is  a  sweetmeat  closet  ; 
perhaps  it  is  a  little  museum ;  but  whatever  it  is,  there  are  certain 
things  which  the  child  must  not  do.  "When,  however,  tlic  cliild  comes 
to  be  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  of  age,  and  goes  away  from  home,  and 
begins  to  be  self-respecting,  and  to  be  enlightened  in  regard  to  con- 
duct,  and  comes  home  again,  we  no  longer  say  to  him,  "  You  shall 
not  do  this  thing  or  that  thing."     "\Ve  begin  to  say  to  him,  "  You 


78  THE  STBONa  TO  BEAR   WITH  THE  WEAK. 

must  study  the  peace  of  the  family  ;"  or,  "  You  must  see  to  it  that 
you  do  nothing  to  interfere  with  health."  Here  is  a  principle  j)ut 
into  his  hand ;  and  he  begins  to  consider  what  will  interfere  with 
health,  and  what  will  incommode  the  other  children,  and  what  will 
promote  the  peace  of  the  family.  Instead  of  having  practical  rules, 
he  begins  to  have  principles  by  which  to  guide  himself. 

The  processes  of  rising  from  these  lower  stages  to  higher  ones  are 
processes  which  have  peculiar  phenomena ;  and  it  is  with  reference 
to  these  that  the  apostle  wrote  the  chapter  which  I  read  in  your  hear- 
iog  this  morning,  and  the  next,  from  which  I  have  selected  my  text. 

I.  Those  who  are  on  the  lower  plane — namely,  the  plane  where 
they  act  from  rules — are  strongly  inclined  to  believe  that  those  who 
go  higher  and  act  from  principles  are  throwing  off  religion,  and  be- 
coming infidels.  That  is,  they  do  not  any  longer  act  according  to 
rio-ht  and  wrong  as  they  have  been  trained  to  act  according  to  right 
and  wrong  ;  and  therefore  they  are  thought  to  be  abandoning  right 
and  wrong,  and  to  be  lawless  and  ungoverned.  As  they  seem  no  longer 
bound  by  customary  rules,  which  are  the  sole  guide  of  inferiors,  they 
seem  to  be  Avithout  auy  restraint  whatever.  And  in  every  age,  as 
men  have,  by  the  process  of  legitimate  development,  become  capable 
of  acting  from  higher  considerations,  those  below  them  have  been  in- 
clined to  think  that  they  were  acting  from  lawlessness,  because  they 
were  not  acting  from  considerations  that  were  in  force  with  those 
lower  ones. 

Hence,  development  and  improvement  in  religious  life  may  seem 
deterioration.  To  this  day,  and  in  high  places,  and  among  educated 
men,  indeed — (men  in  one  sense  educated  ;  for  a  man  may  be  scholas- 
tically  educated, without  being  educated  morally  and  spiritually) — you 
shall  find  those  who  are  in  most  serious  and  honest  alarm  because 
persons  are  breaking  away  from  the  modes  of  religious  culture  to 
which  they  have  been  accustomed.  They  sujjpose  such  persons 
are  breaking  away  from  all  religion,  simply  because  they  have  come 
to  a  higher  sphere  of  development  in  it. 

We  may  imagine  that  a  devout  heathen,  a  conscientious  idolater 
(there  are  such ;  there  were  always  such)  can  not  dissociate  religion 
from  the  use  of  charms,  from  idols,  from  superstitious  observances; 
and  if  a  native  near  to  such  an  one  forsakes  the  god  of  his  fathers, 
and  turns  to  Jehovah  and  to  Jesus,  and  the  other  does  not,  the  con- 
vert may  seem  as  if  he  was  abandoning  all  religion.  He  is  abandon- 
ing the  only  religion  that  this  heathen  man  knows  any  thing  about. 

And  that  which  takes  place  in  heathenism  takes  place  in  Chris- 
tianity. As  you  go  up,  step  by  step,  from  the  religion  which  you 
have  held  in  common  with  others,  it  seems  to  those  who  are  lower 
down  that  you  have  gone  away  from  religion,  and  not  to  a  higher 
and  better  form  of  it.     I  can  understand  how  an  honest  Romanist, 


TEE  STRONG  TO  BEAR   WITH  THE  WEAK.  ^9 

who  has  been  accustomed  to  practice  conscientiously  each  particular 
form  of  worship,  binding  himself  by  the  thousand  services  and  cere- 
monies that  run  through  every  day  of  the  week,  and  through  all  the 
saints'  days,  and  through  all  the  observances  of  the  church,  which 
may  be  profitable  and  indispensable  to  him  in  certain  stages  of  devel- 
opment— I  can  understand  how  he,  when  one  throws  these  things 
off,  and  neither  will  tell  his  beads,  nor  say  his  prayers,  nor  respect 
holy  hours  nor  holy  places,  nor  touch  the  holy  water,  nor  accept  the 
voice  of  the  priest,  but  will  even  overslaugh  the  sacraments  them- 
selves—I  can  understand  how,  under  such  circumstances,  it  should 
seem  to  the  one  lower  down  as  if  there  was  an  abandonment  of  all 
religion  on  the  part  of  the  other.  And  I  can  understand  how  a  per- 
son may  be  a  Protestant,  and  not  use  a  single  one  of  these  ceremo- 
nies, and  yet  be  a  conscientious  doubter,  and  honest  and  earnest  in 
the  development  of  a  Christian  life. 

These  simple  instances  may  be  carried  out  by  you  familiarly  in 
every  direction.  You  see  how,  all  the  time,  children  break  away 
from  the  church  of  their  fathers  and  mothers.  The  daughter  mar- 
ries; and  if  she  marries  looking  up,  she  will  follow  her  husband. 
If  she  marries  looking  down,  she  will  not.  A  woman  always  likes  to 
love  upward.  Her  affection  goes  out.  A  woman  is  a  vine.  I  notice 
that  my  morning-glories  abandon  the  lower  rails  of  the  trellis, 
and  climb  to  the  topmost  points;  and  if  there  is  a  peak  still  higher, 
they  reach  out  toward  it,  and  get  hold  of  it.  Where  there  is  the 
highest  support,  there  they  are  ;  and  they  twine  around  ujjon 
themselves  and  make  the  crown  of  it.  And  so  it  is  with  the  heart 
that  always  wants  the  light  that  is  higher,  and  still  higher.  And 
it  is  not  strange  that  parents  Avho  are  educated  to  the  old  worship 
and  the  old  way  are  greatly  alarmed  for  the  child  because  he  has 
gone  out  from  their  mode  of  religious  deA^elopment,  and  that  they 
think  he  must  have  gone  out  from  all  religious  development. 

11.  On  the  other  hand,  while  there  are  dangers  of  this  kind  to 
those  who  are  left  behind,  there  are  many  dangers  incident  to  a  rise 
from  a  lower  to  a  higher  sphere  of  religion  to  those  who  go  up ;  and 
it  was  to  those  especially  that  the  apostle  made  the  injunction  Avhich 
forms  our  text.  And  it  is  not  so  strange  as  you  at  first  think,  that 
improvement  in  religion  in  some  respects  carries  Avith  it  special  dan- 
gers. It  certainly  does.  We  know  very  Avell  that  sudden  improve- 
ment and  violent  changes  from  barbarism  to  civilization  do  not  prove 
beneficial  to  adults.  If  you  take  a  Chinaman,  twenty-five  or  thirty 
years  old,  away  from  the  customs  of  his  fatherland,  and  bring  him 
into  New-York,  and  he  obtains  his  livelihood  here,  what  is  the  re- 
sult? He  is  brought  into  a  higher  degree  of  civilization;  he  is 
brought  under  influences  that  are  far,  far  better  than  those  of  thu 


80  THE  STRONG   TO  BEAR   WITH  THE  WEAK. 

semi-civilized  laud  from  wliicli  he  comes  ;  but  lie  does  not  take  on 
tliese  influences.  He  loses  those,  and  does  not  get  these ;  and  he  is  a 
kind  of  neuter.  He  is  neither  a  good  Chinaman  nor  a  good  Ameri- 
can. And  we  see  constantly  that  sudden  and  violent  changes,  even 
of  external  relations,  seem  to  stop  life.  As  a  tree  that  is  trans- 
planted, where  there  is  a  vast  cutting  off  of  roots  below,  and  a  vast 
cutting  off  of  branches  above,  is  slow  to  regain  itself,  and  perhaps 
never  will  make  its  old  top  again,  so,  perhaps,  it  is  with  transplanta- 
tion in  moral  circumstances. 

Among  civilized  men  we  see  that  violent  changes,  for  instance, 
from  great  poverty  to  great  wealth,  esiDCcially  if  sudde'o,  are  not 
beneficial,  even  in  a  pecuniary  sense,  or  in  a  secular  sense ;  and  still 
less  in  a  moral  and  liigher  sense.  It  is  a  great  deal  better  for  a  man 
to  be  poor  all  his  life  long,  even  where  poverty  is  a  limitation  in 
intellectual  matters,  than  to  be  shot  suddenly  to  the  other  extreme 
of  unbounded  affluence.  The  two  poorest  men  in  the  world  are 
buckled  together  at  the  other  side  of  the  circle.  The  man  who  has  so 
much  money  that  he  does  not  know  what  to  do  with  it,  and  the  man 
who  has  no  money  at  all,  touch  each  other,  as  you  will  find ;  and  one 
is  about  as  poor  as  the  other  !  When  men  are  middling  rich,  wealth 
does  good  ;  but  when  men  begin  to  be  enormously  rich,  outrageously 
rich,  you  will  find  that  they  become  outrageously  poor  !  Especially, 
if  men  are  suddenly  brought  into  this  condition,  it  is  seldom  that  it 
is  for  their  temporal  or  spiritual  good. 

Now,  that  which  Ave  are  familiar  with  in  respect  to  lower  forms 
of  change — in  respect  to  external  changes — that  where  they  are  sud- 
den and  violent,  men  do  not  easily  adjust  themselves  to  new  condi- 
tions— is  just  as  true  in  moral  things  as  in  intellectixal  or  secular 
affairs.  Sudden  and  violent  moral  changes  carry  tlieir  dangers, 
too.  For  example,  a  sort  of  intoxication  comes  with  sudden  liberty. 
There  are  men  who  have  trained  their  consciences  all  their  life  long 
to  believe  that  right  and  wrong  consisted  in  their  reading  in  the 
Bible ;  and  that  every  day,  at  morning,  noon,  and  night,  their 
duty  to  God  required  that  they  should  kneel  down  to  pray.  But 
by  and  by  it  is  made  known  to  them  that  God  is  not  a  taskmaster, 
and  that  a  man  may  be  a  Christian  if  he  reads  his  Bible  but  twice  a 
Aveek;  that  a  man  is  not  bound  to  kneel  down  three  times  a  day; 
that,  though  it  may  be  better  to  do  it,  a  man,  under  certain  exigencies 
and  conditions,  may  not  observe  religious  services,  and  may  yet  be  a 
good  Christian  ;  that  his  being  a  Christian  depends  on  love,  and  not  on 
a  certain  routine  of  religious  observances,  by  which  love  is  to  be  en- 
kindled or  developed  ;  and  that  the  law  is  the  law  of  freedom.  And 
there  be  many  persons  who,  when  they  come  to  see  this  jDrinciple,  are 
intoxicated  by  it.      It  is  a  new  liberty  ;  and  new  liberty  stands  very 


'  THE  STRONG  TO  BEAR   WITH  THE  WEAK.  81 

close  on  to  old  license.  And  men  that  are  free,  and  begin  to  feel 
their  freedom,  are  like  birds  tliat  have  been  long  in  a  cage,  and  do  not 
know  what  they  can  do  with  their  wings ;  and  the  first  thing  when 
the  door  is  left  open  by  some  chance  they  fly  out,  and  fly  to  their 
peril,  not  knowing  where  to  go,  and  going  where  they  are  quickly 
seized  by  the  hawk,  who  makes  his  easy  meal  of  them.  There  are 
multitudes  of  persons  whose  liberty  consists  in  the  right  of  doing  what 
they  please,  instead  of  the  right  of  doing  that  which  is  best  for  them. 

With  this  sense  of  intoxication  which  men  feel  in  liberty,  comes  a 
certain  contempt  for  their  old  state.  I  can  imagine  a  bean,  after  it 
has  come  to  its  blossoming,  looking  down  its  stalk,  and  seeing  the 
old  leaves.  When  a  bean  comes  up,  you  know,  it  brings  up  its  first 
two  leaves  with  it — great  thick  covers,  full  of  nutriment,  to  supply 
the  stem  until  it  begins  to  devcloj:)  other  leaves,  and  to  supply  it- 
self. And  sui:)pose  the  vine,  looking  down  and  seeing  those  leaves, 
should  experience  utter  contempt,  and  say,  unfolding  its  fine,  new, 
young,  tender  leaves,  "  What  a  great  clumsy,  gawky,  stiff  leaf  that 
is  down  there !  See  how  fine,  how  delicate  the  blossoms  are  that  I 
am  having  up  here."  Nevertheless,  the  whole  of  this  up  here  came 
from  that  down  there.  And  there  is  no  reason  why,  when  the  vine 
has  abandoned  its  old  leaves,  it  should  feel  contempt  for  them,  and 
look  on  the  next  best,  and  praise  them  while  it  ridicules  these.  Re- 
latively to  the  state  to  Avhich  they  belong  they  are  good  enough,  and 
are  doing  their  work.  And  yet,  how  many  times  do  we  find  persons, 
as  they  are  developing  into  a  higher  religious  life,  who  feel,  as  the 
first  fruits  of  their  spiritual  liberty,  contempt  for  their  past  selves, 
and  contempt  for  other  people  Avho  are"in  that  state  from  wliich  they 
have  just  emerged  !  But  let  me  say  that  contempt  is  not  a  Christian 
grace.  This  you  would  do  well  to  put  down  in  your  memorauJum 
book  ;  for  a  great  many  of  you  think  it  is  ! 

Contempt,  you  know  is  a  crow,  that  cries,  "  Caw,  caw,  caw !" 
Pity  is  the  egg  that  hatched  the  crow.  When  you  see  one  man 
showing  jjity  for  another,  just  get  him  a  little  mad,  and  it  is  contempt 
instantly.  We  begin  by  pitying  men  wlio  do  not  know  as  much  as 
we  do;  and  then,  because  they  will  not  mind  us,  we  feel  contempt 
for  them,  and  say,  "  What !  inferiors,  yet  in  a  state  of  darkness,  of 
bondage  to  rules,  and  undertake  to  disj^ute  me,  and  lord  it  over 
me?" 

Here  comes  up  a  pretty  foimdation  for  a  sect.  Here  is  a  chance 
now  for  a  schism  and  a  division.  Then,  to  these,  (both  of  them  are 
bad  dispositions,)  comes  almost  spontaneously  the  reaction  of  author- 
ity; the  right  of  criticism  ;  domineering  over  men's  consciences;  the 
air  of  superiority  ;  and  then  the  judging  men,  not  by  comparing  their 
conduct  with  their  views  of  duty,  but  by  compaiing  their  condtict 


82  THE  STRONG  TO  BEAR   WITH  THE  WEAK. 

1 

with  your  views  of  duty — whicli  is  the  unfairest  thing  you  can  do  to 
a  man.  In  other  words,  dictation  and  despotism  are  very  apt  to  go, 
with  arrogant  natures,  from  a  lower  stage  to  a  higher  one.  And  it  is 
so  in  spiritual  things  as  much  as  in  secular  things. 

III.  We  have  the  apostle's  prescription  for  this  transition  state. 
He  has  been  treating  just  such  a  subject  as  that,  as  you  will  remem- 
ber if  you  recall  the  chapter  that  I  read.  Here  were,  in  the  Jewish 
church,  some  men  who  believed  in  eating  herbs.  Others  believed  in 
eating  meat.  This  happened  to  be  at  that  time  a  question  of  religion  ; 
because  meats  or  vegetables  offered  to  idols  were  things  intimately 
mixed  up  with  matters  of  faith.  According  to  their  customs,  reli- 
gious affairs  turned  to  some  extent  on  diet,  which  was  supposed  to 
have  a  relation  to  devotion  or  services  of  religion.  The  apostle  there- 
fore says,  "  Let  each  other  alone.  It  is  not  a  matter  of  indifference  ; 
but  let  every  man  train  his  conscience  before  God."  If  you  eat  herbs, 
do  not  do  it  simply  because  you  love  them :  do  it  on  the  ground  of 
reason  or  conscience,  or  some  other  ground.  Or,  if  you  refuse  to  eat 
them,  do  that  from  moral  convictions.  And  when  a  man  has  formed 
his  judgment  deliberately  on  moral  grounds  as  to  whether  he  shall 
eat  meat  or  drink  wine,  or  refuse  to  eat  meat  or  drink  wine,  he  is  not 
responsible  to  you.  You  have  no  business  with  him.  You  have  a 
right  to  help  him  ;  you  liave  a  right  to  advise  him ;  you  have  a  right 
to  persuade  him  ;  but  if  a  man  has  come  to  a  deliberate  judgment 
as  to  what  his  liberty  is  in  these  matters,  you  have  no  right  to  co- 
erce him,  or  blame  him,  or  condemn  him.  To  his  own  Master  he 
stands  or  falls. 

But  there  is  another  side.  The  apostle  tenderly  says,  "  If  you 
really  see  that  you  grieve  your  brother,  and  mislead  him,  by  eat- 
ing meat,  you  are  not  going  to  eat  meat — which  is  of  no  great  con- 
sequence to  you.  When  you  see  that  it  is  going  to  damn  that  man's 
soul  for  you  to  drink  wine,  you  are  not  going  to  drink  wine.  When 
the  most  precious  thing  is  to  save  a  man,  you  are  not  going  to  con- 
tinue a  practice  that  will  destroy  him.  For  meat,  you  will  not  de- 
stroy a  soul  for  whom  Christ  died."  And  then  he  says  to  one  and 
the  other,  "  You  are  both  to  give  account  before  God  for  your  re- 
spective lines  of  conduct."  "  Let  us  not  therefore  judge  one  another 
any  more,"  he  says,  "but  judge  this  rather,  that  no  man  put  a  stum- 
bling-block or  an  occasion  to  fall  in  his  brother's  way." 

Then  comes  the  text :  "  We  that  are  strong  ought  to  bear  the  in- 
firmities of  the  weak,  and  not  to  please  ourselves." 

That  is  a  responsibility  which  we  do  not  always  think  of;  and 
there  is  a  range  to  it  which  we  do  not  always  think  of.  If  superiority 
gives  us  no  right  to  arrogate  authority ;  if  because  I  am  wiser  than  you 
are,  I  have  no  right  to  take  on  airs  nor  to  insist  upon  it  that  you  con- 


TEE  STRONG  TO  BEAR   WITH  THE  WEAK.  83 

form  your  conduct  to  my  life ;  if  because  I  have  genius  as  a  musician, 
I  have  no  right  to  i^resurae  over  those  that  have  none  ;  if  because 
I  am  an  architect,  or  a  statesman,  or  if  because  in  any  direction  God 
has  given  me  eminent  gifts,  and  culture  to  develop  tliem,  I  have  no 
right  of  authority  over  others  ;  if  leadership  does  not  go  with  these 
relative  superiorities ;  and  if,  on  the  other  hand,  responsibility  does 
go  with  them — then  it  is  time  for  us  to  know  it.  For  it  is  a  question 
that  lies  very  near  to  the  profound  questions  of  to-day.  Let  me,  there- 
fore, read  the  Avhole  of  it. 

"  We,  then,  that  are  strong  ought  to  bear  the  infirmities  of  the 
weak,  and  not  to  please  ourselves  " — which  is  generally  considered 
the  supreme  business  of  a  man !  When  a  man  has  acquired  money 
and  education,  he  makes  it  his  business  to  render  himself  happy.  He 
surrounds  himself  with  an  estate,  and  fills  his  mansion,  stores  it  with 
comforts  and  luxuries,  that  he  may  not  be  mixed  up  with  the  noisy 
afihirs  of  life,  but  get  out  of  the  way,  and  have  his  nest  beyond  the 
reach  of  the  storm,  and  there  lie  in  his  little  round  silky  abode,  at 
ease  with  himself.  But,  says  the  apostle,  ye  that  are  strong,  ye 
that  are  men  of  genius  and  might  intellectitally — you  have  no  rio-ht 
to  do  any  such  thing.  You  ought  to  bear  the  infirmities  of  the  weak., 
x\ll  human  trouble  ought  to  roll  itself  on  to  the  broadest  shoulders,, 
and  not  to  rest  on  the  weak  and  feeble  shoulders.  If  there  is  to  be  any 
patience,  it  is  to  be  on  the  part  of  men  that  are  the  best  men.  If 
there  is  to  be  any  forbearance,  it  is  to  be  on  the  part  of  those  men 
who  are  the  most  deserving,  and  not  the  least  deserving.  Rich  men 
are  to  bear  the  infirmities  of  the  poor.  Wise  men  are  to  bear  the 
mistakes  of  the  ignorant.  Strong  men  are  to  bear  with  the  feeble. 
Cultured  people  are  to  bear  with  rude  and  vulgar  folks.  If  a  rough 
and  coarse  man  meets  an  ecstatically  fine  man,  and  the  qiiestion 
between  them  is  as  to  which  shall  give  preference  to  the  other,  the 
man  that  is  highest  up  is  to  be  the  servant  of  the  man  that  is  lowest 
down.  You  say  that  it  is  against  nature.  Very  likely,  but  it  is  not 
against  grace.  He  that  will  be  first  must  be  the  servant.  And  as  it  is 
externally,  so  it  is  intellectually.  And  it  is  the  law  of  the  faculties 
in  the  spiritual  kingdom,  as  it  is  in  the  material  and  secular,  that  the 
strong  shall  not  rule  over  the  weak,  but  shall  be  mothers  of  the 
weak.  Everywhere  this  is  the  law.  And  he  confirms  it  by  saying, 
"Let  every  one  please  his  neighbor." 

What !  are  we  to  go  chattering  here  and  there,  making  pleasure 
for  folks  ?  Are  we  to  be  mere  pleasure-mongers  ?  Xo,  not  that. 
"  Let  every  one  of  us  please  his  neighbor  ybr  his  good  to  edification'^'* 
— please  him  in  that  sense  which  shall  make  a  better  man  of  him, 
just  as  we  are  trying  to  do  in  our  Bethel.  We  are  there  trying  to 
please  men.     How  ?     By  supplying  ihcni  with  instruction,  and  inno- 


Si  THE  STRONG   TO  BEAR   WITH  THE  WEAK 

cent  amusements,  or  permitting  them  to  enjoy  these  things.  And 
Avhat  is  it  for  ?  Just  for  the  sake  of  giving  them  pleasure  ?  No, 
but  because  we  want  to  see  them  educated  to  a  broader  manhood. 
They  are  our  neighbors  and  fellow-citizens;  and  we  are  pleasing 
them  for  the  sake  of  building  them  up,  and  making  more  of  them. 
I  can  not  bear  to  see  little  men.  I  can  not  bear  to  see  men  contented 
to  be  little.  I  never  see  a  man  that  is  rude  and  unformed  that  I  do 
not  Avant  to  put  my  hand  on  him.  As  a  watchmaker  never  can  see  a 
watch  that  is  out  of  order  that  he  does  not  feel  instinctively  impelled 
to  take  hold  of  it  and  put  it  in  order,  so  I  feel  like  jDutting  my 
hand  on  a  man  that  is  too  small,  and  making  him  large.  Paul  says 
that  you  must  not  do  it  rudely,  authoritatively,  but  that  you  must 
please  him.  He  says  that  you  must  ingratiate  yourself  with  him  ; 
and  that  you  must  do  it,  not  for  the  sake  of  an  ambitious  control  of 
him,  but  for  the  sake  of  making  a  man  of  him.  "  Let  every  one  of 
us  please  his  neighbor  for  his  good  to  edification."  And  there  is 
more — "For  even  Christ  j^leased  not  himself;  but,  as  it  is  written, 
The  reproaches  of  them  that  rej)roached  thee  fell  on  me." 

Well,  that  is  a  hard  task  ;  and  therefore  the  apostle  adds,  "  Now 
the  God  of  patience  and  consolation  grant  you  to  be  like-minded,  one 
toward  another,  according  to  Christ  Jesus."  If  a  man  is  going  to  be 
a  Christian  in  this  world,  you  may  depend  upon  it  he  must  take  on 
a  good  stock  of  patience,  both  for  himself  and  for  the  duties  which 
he  owes  to  those  outside  of  himself 

In  this  prescription  of  the  apostle,  as  between  those  that  are  in  a 
lower  state  of  development  and  those  that  are  relatively  in  a  higher 
one,  neither  side  is  to  desj)ise  the  other.  The  feeling  of  brotherhood 
between  them  is  to  be  stimulated,  and  is  to  rise  above  all  others. 
The  similarities  in  Christ  are  to  be  made  more  important  in  the  esteem 
of  men  than  their  personal  differences  are.  And  the  strong  are  re- 
sponsible for  the  carrying  out  of  this  law. 

1.  If  this  seems  impossible  to  any  of  you ;  if  it  even  seems  romantic 
and  fanciful ;  if  you  say,  "  You  ai'e  preaching  that  which  you  your- 
self do  not  believe  will  take  place ;  jow  do  not  expect  that  men  who 
ai'e  cultured  are  going  to  make  themselves  servants  of  those  who  are 
ignorant ;  you  do  not  expect  that  men  who  are  clear-headed  are  going 
to  become  the  nurses  of  superstitious  men,  and  bow  down  to  them  ; 
you  do  not  believe  yourself  that  strength  is  going  to  consider  itself 
inferior  to  weakness ;  it  is  contrary  to  nature  " — no,  it  is  not  contrary 
to  nature.  And  you  are  mistaken  when  you  say  that  I  do  not  believe 
it.  I  do  believe  it ;  and  you  believe  it,  too.  And  you  see  it.  Where  ? 
Not  in  Wall  street,  nor  in  Water  street.  Nowhere  in  business. 
Nowhere  in  politics.  Nowhere  in  what  is  strictly  called  the  secular 
world.    But  go  where  Father  and  Mother  have  a  little  commonwealth 


THE  STRONG  TO  LEAR    WITH  TUB   T^EAE.  85 

of  their  own,  antl  wliere  the  children  are,  nncl  see  if  the  wisest  and 
the  strongest  and  the  best  are  not  ahsohitcly  the  servants  of  tlie 
poorest  and  the  weakest.  There  is  the  babe  that  knows  but  two  things 
— to  suck  and  to  cry ;  and  yet  it  is  the  master  of  that  household. 
The  father's  voice,  speaking  in  command  in  the  morning,  does  not 
produce  half  so  quick  a  stir  as  the  outcry  of  the  child  at  midnight ; 
and  that  at  the  call  of  which  every  body  rises  and  runs  is  the  ex- 
treraest  weakness.  Yes,  after  it  runs  the  whole  courtier  throng — 
nurse,  mother,  father,  and  the  children.  If  the  babe  is  hurt,  every 
body  is  hurt.  And  yet  you  tell  me  that  the  strong  can  not  be  ex- 
pected to  take  care  of  the  weak,  and  defer  to  them ;  that  wisdom 
can  not  be  exjiected  to  defer  to  ignorance.  And  this  is  not  once,  nor 
twice.  It  is  not  when  the  baptismal  or  holiday  robes  are  on  the 
child.  Whe:i  the  clrld  is  disfigured  by  sickness  ;  when  the  child 
has  grown  out  of  the  cradle ;  when  the  child  has  become  a  prattler, 
meddlesome,  impertinent,  disagreeable  ;  when  nobody  but  the  mother 
thinks  the  child  is  a  paragon — she  Apollo,  and  we  Apollyon — even 
then,  the  same  law  prevails.  And  how,  even  clear  up  until  the 
child's  foot  is  put  on  the  platform  of  intelligence,  is  the  household,  by 
instinct,  subject  to  the  royal  law  that  the  strong  shall  hear  xoith  the 
wealc^  and  not  seek  to  please  themselves  ! 

Xow,  if  you  can  do  it  in  the  family,  you  can  do  it  out  of  the  fami- 
ly; and  I  hold  up  the  family  as  my  exemplar,  and  say,  "Here  is  the 
law  that  must  prevail  in  the  church  and  throughout  the  land,  as  it 
does  not  now  in  business,  in  art,  in  politics,  in  national  life,  nor  any- 
where. Before  the  millennial  day  dawns,  whose  night  is  aiiroral,  and 
whose  day  is  to  be  an  unsetting  day  of  glory,  there  must  be  this  prin- 
ciple :  that  by  the  power  which  inheres  in  development  and  extraor- 
dinary excellence,  there  is  to  be  nourishing  beneath,  not  seeking  to 
please  yourselves,  but  to  bear  Avith  the  weak  that  need  you. 

2.  If  this  be  so,  we  see  the  application  of  it  to  those  who  are  set 
free,  by  larger  thinking,  from  the  narrow  dogmas  of  the  past.  I  am 
meeting  every  day  of  my  life  with  men  who  were  brought  up  by 
very  rigorous  parents,  in  a  very  rigorous  system  of  belief,  and  who 
have  broken  loose  from  it.  Some  of  them  have  gone  off  into  dun- 
geons, and  believe  in  nothing.  Some  of  them  have  deliquesced  into 
a  kind  of  licentiousness,  in  which  they  struggle.  And  there  arc  a 
great  many  who  have  gone  into  hyperborean  regions — calm,  because 
frozen.  And  I  hear  men  on  every  side  saying,  "  I  was  brought  up 
by  my  father  and  mother  rigorously  ;  but  I  thank  God  that  I  have 
broken  those  bonds  and  set  aside  those  restraints  by  wdiich  I  was 
held.  And  now  I  have  a  larger  life.  I  understand  better  than  I  did. 
I  am  far  above  them." 

What  is  the  fruit  and  what  is  the   evidence  of  your  superiority  ? 


86  THE  STRONG   TO  BEAR   WITH  THE  WEAK. 

No  man  can  vindicate  his  claim  to  superiority  unless  he  can  show 
better  fruit.  Every  change  of  latitude,  as  you  jjass  toward  the  equa- 
tor from  the  poles,  is  marked,  not  by  the  thermometer,  but  by  the  gar- 
den and  the  orchard ;  and  I  know  that  I  am  going  toward  the  equa- 
tor, not  so  much  by  what  the  navigator  tells  me  as  by  what  the  sun 
tells  me.  And  every  step  of  progression,  according  to  the  law  of  moral 
development,  is  to  be  accom]3anied  with  a  manifest  superior  develop- 
ment of  moral  fruit — with  gentleness,  and  sweetness,  and  compassion- 
ateness,  and  patience,  and  forbearance,  and  meekness,  and  overflowing 
love.  "  The  beauty  of  holiness  "  is  not  a  dead  phrase — or  ought  not 
to  be  a  dead  phrase.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  "  the  beauty  of  holi- 
ness," which  shall  make  men  stand  and  admire  a  regenerated  cha- 
racter. 

The  evidence  of  going  up  in  the  moral  scale  is  not  that  you  dis- 
sent from  your  dogmas,  and  have  rejected  your  ordinances,  and  given 
wide  berth  to  your  churches.  If  you  have  gone  higher  up,  let  us  see 
that  development  in  you  of  a  true  Christian  life  which  shall  show 
that  you  are  higher.  In  the  proportion  in  which  you  are  barren  there, 
you  are  barren  everywhere.  I  lay  no  restriction  upon  the  freedom  of 
thought  of  any  man  who  is  a  free  thinker ;  but  of  what  use  is  your 
freedom  of  thought,  if  with  that  freedom  you  do  not  get  half  as  many 
virtues  as  men  who  have  not  freedom  of  thought  ?  Suppose  you  are 
a  free  thinker  ?  Yet  you  are  not  cultivated ;  you  are  not  just ;  you 
are  not  loving ;  you  are  not  patient ;  you  are  not  forbearing ;  you 
sneer — which  is  always  infernal ;  you  criticise ;  you  disbelieve.  And  ' 
a  man  is  deficient  in  manhood  when  he  has  no  faith — when  he  does 
not  believe.  Man  is  a  believing  creature.  He  may  believe  wrong  ; 
but  he  had  better  believe  so  than  not  believe  at  all.  "  Nature  abhors 
a  vacuum,"  it  is  said,  in  physics ;  and  it  is  true  of  metaphysics  and 
spiritual  things,  Nothing  is  so  vain  as  a  vacuous  man,  who  believes 
nothing,  and  has  no  faith.  The  signs  and  tokens  of  your  emancipa- 
tion and  elevation  are  to  be  found  in  the  vines  that  you  gi'ow ;  in  the 
flowers  that  blossom ;  in  the  fruits  that  fill  the  air  with  their  sweet 
perfume. 

Those  who  have  risen  above  others  in  virtue  and  in  refinement, 
are  not  at  liberty  to  hate,  to  seclude  themselves  from  their  late 
fellows,  or  to  divide  themselves  from  those  with  whom  they  are  not 
in  sympathy.  To  bring  the  matter  riglit  home,  you  are  frugal,  and 
your  brother  is  a  spendthrift.  You  can  not  help  it.  You  take  the 
air  of  superiority,  and  talk  about  him,  and  say,  "  "William  is  a  sorry 
dog.  He  never  could  keep  any  thing.  His  pockets  had  two  gates, 
all  of  them — one  to  go  in  at,  and  one  to  go  out  at !"  And  the  impli- 
cation of  it  is,  "  I  was  dififerent.  I  am  iinlike  him."  And  you  see 
what  comes  of  it.     The  man  criticises  him;  but  the  apostle  says. 


TEE  STRONG  TO  BEAR   WITH  THE   WEAK.  87 

"  Are  you  superior  to  him  because  you  are  frugal  ?  Then  you  are  to 
bear  with  his  sjiendthriftness."  I  put  on  you  the  responsibility  of 
taking  care  of  him.  You  are  not  judge  nor  condemner.  God  takes 
that  prerogative,  and  lends  it  to  no  man.  You  are  to  bear  with 
him ;  and  you  are  to  do  it  not  for  your  own  pleasure,  nor  for  his  mere 
pleasure,  but  for  his  pleasure  to  edification^  that  Christ  may  save  his 
soul. 

Here  is  a  snappish  and  snarling  man,  as  disagreeable  as  a  north- 
east wind,  and  almost  as  persistent ;  and  here  is  a  man  that  is  serene 
and  of  a  quiet  temper.  Which  is  the  superior  man  ?  Of  course,  the 
man  that  is  of  a  sweet  and  blessed  temper.  And  which  of  these  two 
men  ought  to  rule  ?  Well,  in  one  sense,  the  man  that  has  the  best 
temper.  But  in  any  forbearance  on  one  side  or  the  other,  the  man 
of  a  good  temper  has  no  right  to  say  to  the  other,  "ISTow,  you  are 
lower  down  than  I  am,  and  I  am  not  going  to  receive  my  law  from 
you.  You  are  of  a  bad  temper,  and  you  are  to  wait  on  me  instead 
of  my  waiting  on  you."  "  No,"  says  the  apostle,  "  if  there  is  any 
going  down,  it  is  for  you  to  go  down  to  him.  If  any  body  is  to  be 
the  servant  between  you,  it  is  you,  and  not  he. 

Here  is  a  man  that  says  of  a  neighbor,  "  He  is  an  exacting,  arro- 
gant, brute  creature."  Yes,  but  Christ  died  for  him,  as  he  died  for  you ; 
that  hard  man  is  your  brother;  you  are  both  of  you  to  have  a- 
quick  passage  through  a  few  fleeting  years,  and  then  you  are  to  stand 
together  before  God.  And  in  that  passage,  on  your  w^ay  up  to  your 
final  account,  where  your  manhood  is  to  eifulge  into  a  heavenly 
spirit,  you  are  to  bear  Vv^ith  that  man.  You  are  to  seek  his  pleasure 
to  edification.  If  there  is  either  that  ought  to  serve  the  other,  it  is 
the  good  man.     He  must  serve  the  bad  man. 

That  is  what  you  do.  Good  men,  you  know,  pay  all  the  taxes 
of  bad  men.  Virtuous  men  pay  the  State  bills  of  dissij^ated  men. 
Patriotic  men  pay  all  the  war  bills  of  unpatriotic  men.  Citizens 
that  stay  at  home  pay  the  expenses  of  i:»oliticians  that  go  racket- 
ing about  the  country  and  doing  nothing  but  mischief  N^ature 
itself  recognizes,  in  its  operations,  this  very  law.  That  which  you 
call  to-day  voluntary,  is  that  which  society  involuntarily  is  doing 
all  the  while. '  The  good  bear  up  the  bad,  and  are  their  subjects. 

There  is  an  application,  also,  that  might  be  made  of  this  to  the  va- 
rious sects.  The  world  is  full  of  Christian  sects.  I  suppose  there  Avill 
be  more  rather  than  fewer  of  them.  Just  now  there  is  a  strong  endea- 
vor to  reabsorb  sects  ;  to  unite  them  ;  to  make  them  universal.  If 
they  succeed,  I  am  not  sorry.  The  causes  that  are  grinding  and  pro- 
ducing independence,  the  centrifugal  forces,  are  enough  to  balance 
all  these  centripetal  influences;  and  therefore  I  am  not  afraid.  The 
world  is  going  to  be  full  of  sects.     You  may  make  them  over  again 


88  TEE  STRONG  TO  BEAR   WITE  TEE  WEAK. 

and  again,  and  they  will  split  up  as  often  as  you  make  tbem  over. 
Yet  no  mischief  comes  of  it.  I  do  not  consider  that  in  grinding  up 
the  greater  denominations  into  smaller  ones,  there  is  any  more 
harm  than  in  grinding  kernels  of  wheat  into  flour.  That  is  the  way 
to  make  bread  of  it.     The  more  there  are  of  sects  the  better. 

Suppose  we  should  undertake  to  have  one  great  family  in  this 
city,  as  if  that  were  the  best  thing  ?  Why,  there  are  in  Columbia 
street  a  hundred  families ;  and  there  is  not  one  too  many.  The  only 
thing  that  makes  them  beneficial  is  this  :  We  have  learned  decency 
about  family  matters.  I  do  not  step  into  my  next-door  neighbor's 
house  and  ask  him  how  he  makes  his  bread,  or  how  many  blankets 
he  sleeps  under  in  winter.  I  do  not  look  at  his  thermometer  to  see 
what  temperature  he  has  in  his  rooms.  I  do  not  inquire  how  many 
times  a  day  he  whips  his  boys,  or  ought  to  whip  them,  I  never 
meddle  with  his  afiiairs.  I  let  him  alone,  and  he  lets  me  alone. 
There  are  Southern  folks  on  one  side,  and  Northern  folks  on  the 
other  side.  There  are  all  sorts  of  folks  there.  And  if  I  should  set 
out  to  tell  them  how  they  shoiild  all  keep  house,  what  a  world  of  ad- 
vice I  could  give  to  those  families !  And  how  impertinent  they 
would  think  me ! — and  justly  too.  I  do  not  meddle  with  them.  I 
touch  them  on  the  side  where  we  agree.  I  touch  them  on  the  side 
where  heart  meets  heart.  And  so '  every  thing  goes  on  smoothly. 
And  the  next  street  is  full,  and  the  next,  and  the  next,  throughout  the 
whole  city  of  Brooklyn  —  the  best  city  in  the  world,  evidently! 
Tliereis  no  difiiculty  about  families.  Add  street  to  street,  and  ward 
to  ward,  and  things  go  on  just  the  same. 

Ifow,  a  church  is  nothing  but  a  multitude  of  families.  Let  there 
be  a  hundred,  or  five  hundred.  All  you  want  is,  that  those  that  are 
purest,  those  that  are  "  orthodox,"  shall  bear  with  those  that  are  not 
orthodox.  There  is  a  responsibility  resting  upon  you.  You  must 
buckle  on  your  harness.  You  are  a  servant.  You  must  seek  to  es- 
tablish a  better  worship.  You  must  go  down  and  serve  those  that 
have  a  poor  Avorship.  The  higher  must  serve  the  lower.  The  law 
of  the  family  must  come  in.  If  you  think  you  are  better  than  any 
body  else,  take  care  of  that  other  body. 

Will  not  that  annihilate  sects?  It  will  annihilate  fell  that  is  bad 
in  them.  It  will  take  away  difierences,  dogmatisms,  every  thing 
but  that  which  is  good  in  them.  And  ere  long  people  will  cease 
to  talk  about  these  external  developments  of  Christianity.  The  whole 
force  of  Christian  public  sentiment  will  be  directed  to  developing 
virtuous,  loving  feelings. 

There  is  another  application  which  I  should  like  to  make  of  this 
subject  to  the  weaker  races  on  the  globe,  in  the  great  struggle  for 


THE  STRONG  TO  BEAR    WITH  THE  WEAK.  89 

life ;  but  there  is  a  matter  which  ^jrevents  my  doing  so  now.  I  will 
take  that  up  separately  at  some  future  time. 

Xow  I  want  to  make  one  application  more ;  and  as  I  have  talked 
a  great  while,  I  will  do  it  by  proxy.  Brother  Matthews,  come  up 
here. 

Here  is  a  man  that  is  a  layman.  He  is  a  black  man.  I  noticed 
last  Friday  night,  in  his  remarks  at  the  prayer-meeting,  that  he  spoke 
of  his  brethren  as  blacky  instead  oi  colored.  He  is  the  accredited  and 
authorized  agent  of  the  African  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  This 
is  a  church  made  up  of  black  people.  Their  bishoj^s  are  black;  their 
ministers  are  black  ;  their  trustees  are  black ;  their  members  are 
black.  Most  of  theiu  were  slaves  until  a  very  recent  period.  I  want 
him  to  tell  you,  in  a  few  words,  exactly  wdiat  they  have  done,  and 
just  what  they  are  doing  for  themselves ;  and  then  I  want  you  to 
make  an  application  of  the  subject  on  which  I  hare  been  preaching — 
namely,  the  duty  of  the  strong  to  bear  witli  the  v\'eak.  You  may  be- 
lieve every  word  he  says,  for  I  know  he  is  all  right. 


EEMAEKS  OF  KE.  WILLIAM  E.  MATTHEWS. 

Cheistian'  rrwtENDS :  I  thank  yon,  as  I  have  no  -word  to  express,  for  this  mauifestation  of  prac- 
tical Christianity  in  giving  me  an  opportunity  to  present  to  your  sympathy  and  support  the  causo 
I  represent.  I  am  not  insensible  to  the  fact — I  am  almost  overwhelmed  by  it— of  standing  on  the 
platform  of  Plymouth  Church,  face  to  face  with  this  people,  and  in  presence  of  the  man  who 
has  done  so  much  for  the  millions  of  my  brethren.  For  the  battle  you  have  fought,  and  for  the 
words  of  cheer  and  hope  spoken  when  all  around  them  was  dark  with  despair,  I  can  only  say— I 
thank  you. 

I  come  from  Baltimore,  where  I  was  born  and  reared,  and  I  come  bearing  letters  of  recommen- 
dation from  the  Hon.  Hugh  L.  Bond,  the  Eev.  Edwin  Johnson,  Eev.  John  F.  W.  Ware,  Eev.  Dr. 
Sunderland,  of  Washington,  Major-General  Howard,  and  other  noble  men  in  that  section  of  the 
country,  who  know  me  and  the  cause  I  represent. 

I  am  here  as  the  representative  of  the  missionary  work  now  being  performed  at  the  South  by 
the  African  Methodist  Episcopal  Church— a  church  organized  and  governed  entirely  by  colored 
men. 

This  African  Methodist  Church  was  organized  fifty-two  years  ago,  in  181C  ;  so  you  sec  that  I 
do  not  come  with  some  new-born  experiment,  but  for  an  organization  which  has  been  tested,  and 
which,  under  God,  has  been  instrumental  in  presenting  to  American  Christianity  the  largest  body 
of  Christianized  Africans  to  be  found  the  world  over. 

I  wiU  as  briefly  as  possible  give  the  history  of  its  rise  and  progress,  what  it  has  achieved  and 
what  it  still  desires  to  perform.  Prior  to  the  year  1810,  there  were  a  great  many  colored  people 
in  the  State  of  Pennsylvania  who  were  members  of  the  great  Methodist  Church  of  this  country. 
All  the  rights  and  Christian  courtesies  which  others  enjoyed  were  accorded  to  them ;  but  about 
tills  time  you  know  how  the  great  spirit  of  caste  overleaped  the  plantations  of  the  South  and 
entered  your  Northern  liomes — how  it  even  entered  the  sacred  temple  of  worsliip,  and  ignoring 
that  great  truth  proclaimed  by  Paul  on  ^Mars'  Hill,  that  "  Go  J  of  a  truth  had  made  of  one  blood  ail 
men,  to  dwell  on  all  the  face  of  the  earth,"  the  ministers  of  this  cliurch  plainly  told  the  colored 
portion  of  the  membership  that  such  was  the  condition  of  public  opinion  that  they  could  no  longer 
remain  with  them,  and  the  sooner  they  took  themselves  away  the  better  it  vrould  be  for  all  con- 
cerned. A  few  of  the  more  intelligent  of  the  colored  men — Eicliard  Allen,  David  Coakcr,  and  six 
others— feeling  the  great  wrong  done  them,  resolved  to  form  a  church  of  their  own,  where  they 
could  worship  God  under  their  own  vine  and  fig-tree,  with  none  to  molest  or  make  afraid.  These 
men,  poor  in  pocket  but  rich  in  heart,  rented  a  loft  over  a  blacksmith's  shop,  and  in  the  month  of 
ApiTl,  ISIG,  they  there  formed  this  African  Methodist  Episcopal  Church.  From  that  small  com- 
mencement of  eight  men  for  a  congregation,  and  a  lox^  i'or  a  sanctuary,  this  communion  lias  in- 


90  THE  STEONG  TO  BEAR   WITH  THE  WEAK. 

% 
creased,  east,  west,  north,  south,  until,  as  I  before  stated,  Ave  possess  the  largest  body  of  black 
Christians  to  be  found  the  -world  over. 

We  now  number  a  membership  of  two  hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand.  Wc  have  some 
eight  hundred  church  edifices  scattered  throughout  the  country ;  one  college,  (Wilberforce,)  near 
Xenia,  Ohio;  a  training-school  for  ministers  in  South-Carolina;  and  a  newspaper,  the  Christian 
Hecorder,  of  Philadelphia,  Mith  a  circulation  of  from  eight  to  ten  thousand  ;  and  all  this  the  work 
of  colored  men.  All  the  money  required,  all  the  power  of  head  and  heart  needed  in  propelling  so 
great  a  work,  has  come  from  black  men. 

But  you  must  know  that,  prior  to  the  rebellion,  no  organization  could  exist  at  the  South  that 
had  not  at  its  head  a  white  man  ;  and  as  this  was  a  church  governed  entirely  by  colored  men,  our 
church  had  no  existence  in  the  South,  the  only  exceptions  to  this  rule  being  ihe  States  of  Mary- 
laud,  Kentucky,  and  the  District  of  Columbia.  In  these  States  we  have  a  large  membership  and 
fine  church  property  ;  but  whenever  we  attempted  to  plant  our  church  in  Virginia,  the  Carolinas, 
or  Georgia,  or  any  of  the  States  where  our  people  mostly  lived,  the  law  would  interpose.  In 
some  instances,  a  jMsse  of  police  would  enter,  arrest  the  minister  and  as  many  of  the  congi-egation 
as  they  could  manage.  This  was  done  to  the  Kev.  John  M.  Brown,  now  Bishop  Brown,  in  the 
city  of  New-Orleans,  not  many  years  since. 

When  the  war  of  the  rebellion  broke  forth,  and  when  our  government  (for,  thank  God  1  I  can 
ilow  say  our  government)  had  been  educated  up  to  the  idea  of  accepting  black  men  to  help  fight 
its  battles,  the  mmisters  of  this-church  were  among  the  first  to  offer  their  services.  Indeed,  our 
churches  in  Washington,  Baltimore,  Philadelphia,  and  this  city  were  turned  into  recruiting  ren- 
dezvous, where  mass  meetings  were  held,  and  our  leading  ministers  came  before  the  people  and 
told  them  to  forget  the  past,  and  to  buckle  on  their  armor  and  go  forth  to  vindicate  the  country's 
honor  and  preserve  the  nation's  flag  ;  and  they  did  go  forth,  and  Eev.  Henry  M.  Turner,  then  the 
pastor  of  one  of  our  churches  in  Washington,  but  now  engaged  in  organizing  churches  in  Georgia, 
and  one  of  the  men  recently  expelled  from  the  legislature  of  that  State  on  account  of  color,  was 
the  first  colored  man  to  receive  a  commission  from  the  United  States — that  as  chaplain  of  the 
First  U.  S.  Colored  troops,  which  he  raised  almost  by  himself,  by  the  power  of  his  own  influence. 
When  Turner  and  others  of  our  ministers  went  into  the  Southern  States  and  saw  the  deplorable 
spiritual  condition  of  the  blacks,  their  utter  ignorance  of  the  elements  which  are  required  for  a 
fully  developed  Christian  character,  they  determined  that  our  church  must  be  planted  there  in 
order  that  the  Gospel  might  be  preached  to  them  m  all  the  richness  of  its  promise,  and  all  its 
breadth  and  depth.  For  you  must  know  that  these  millions  had  never  been  permitted  to  listen  to 
p.  "  whole  gospel."  In  many  of  the  Southern  States,  they  had  no  church  priAoleges  at  all.  In 
others  they  were  permitted  to  occupy  the  loft  in  the  white  churches,  and  at  the  close  of  the  min- 
ister's regular  discourse  he  would  address  a  few  words  to  his  black  hearers.  No  matter  what 
text  his  sermon  had  been  based  upon,  the  text  from  which  he  spoke  to  the  colored  people  would 
always  be,  "  Servants,  obey  your  masters,''''  telling  them  that,  if  they  would  only  obey  the  superior 
will  of  some  one  else,  no  rnedter  what  that  irill  teas,  they  might  possibly  get  into  some  corner 
of  heaven  ;  but  even  of  this  there  was  no  absolute  certainty.  They  were  taught  nothing  about 
the  importance  of  Christian  character,  or  the  meaning  and  force  of  that  little  word  integrity. 

Now,  tliis  African  Church  is  endeavoring  to  supply  this  need.  They  are  sending  into  the 
South  men  of  broad,  comprehensive  views,  men  who  know  the  needs  of  the  people,  and  who  are 
endeavoring  to  hedge  them  about  by  such  influences  as  will  enable  them  to  emerge  from  their 
transition  state  healthier,  stronger,  and  wiser,  so  that  they  may  be  a  blessing  to  themselves,  their 
country,  and  their  age.  We  have  already  succeeded  in  organizing  some  five  hundred  congregations 
and  erecting  some  three  hundred  church  buildings  south  of  the  Potomac.  Indeed,  we  have  already 
succeeded  in  making  that  South-land,  which  a  few  years  ago  was  black  with  its  ignorance  and 
superstitions,  resound  with  praise  and  prayer  from  every  hill-top  and  plain  from  Virginia  to  the 
Gulf  of  Mexico. 

In  all  the  large  cities  our  churches  are  in  a  healthy  condition— not  only  self-supporting,  but 
giving  a  surplus  for  more  destitute  regions  ;  but  in  Texas,  Arkansas,  Georgia,  and  other  portions 
of  the  South  where  labor  is  disorganized,  the  people  are  unable  to  raise  money  enough  to  meet 
the  common  necessities  of  life.  They,  therefore,  have  no  money  to  give  to  the  men  whom  we 
send  them.  The  consequence  is,  that  we  have  some  eighty  men  who  are  either  wholly  or  partly 
dependent  upon  our  Missionary  Society  for  their  support ;  and  it  is  for  this  purpose.  Christian 
friends,  that  I  invoke  your  sympathy,  and,  I  trust,  your  material  help. 

Time  will  not  permit  me  to  go  more  fully  into  the  details  of  this  work.  My  appeal  is  before 
you,  and  in  those  beautiful  words  of  Bishop  Ileber  I  would  ask  you, 

«  "  Shall  you  whose  minds  are  lighted 

With  wisdom  from  on  high, 
Shall  you  to  men  benighted 
The  lamp  of  life  deny  ? 


THE  STRONG  TO  BEAR   WITH  THE  WEAK.  91 

Salvation  !  O  salvation  1 

Tlie  joyful  sound  proclaim, 
Till  earth's  remotest  nation 

Has  learnt  Messiali's  name." 

Help  us  to  help  these  -woe-smitten  children  up  to  manhood  and  to  God,  and  you  shall  receive 
that  benediction  sweeter  than  any  joy  the -n'orld  can  give.  It  will  be  the  voice  of  the  Master, 
"  Inasmuch  as  ye  have  done  it  to  these  my  little  ones,  yc  have  done  it  unto  me." 


PRATER  BEFORE  THE  SERMOI. 

0  LoED  our  God,  we  are  this  morning  filled  with  a  sense  of  our  need.  The  thought  of  thee 
Is  so  large,  and  of  thine  excellent  glory  so  bright,  that  our  estate  seems  poor  and  mean,  and  aU 
reasons  and  motives  seem  to  faU  for  exertion.  For,  when  we  have  striven  to  the  uttermost,  and 
done  our  best  things,  what  are  they  ?  What  have  we  gained  ?  We  look  away  to  the  thought  of 
the  other  land,  to  the  blessedness  of  the  perfected  there,  and  to  thine  estate  and  grandeur  of 
glory  and  love ;  and  we  are  so  selfish,  so  proud,  so  unfruitful,  we  are  so  vexed  and  vexing,  that  we 
scarcely  can  feel  that  we  shall  stand  in  Zion  and  before  God,  and  that  thou  wilt  ever  look  with 
complacency  upon  us.  Within  and  without  we  are  most  homely  and  unlovely.  We  are  dis- 
figured and  stained  with  sin.  And  we  are  not  pained  with  the  sense  of  those  who  are  gone 
before  us— our  ancestors— though  we  may  receive  the  burden  and  the  weight.  Nor  is  it 
our  pride  that  offends  us,  by  which  thou  hast  designed  to  minister  strength  unto  us.  It  is 
unlovely  ways.  Thou  hast  made  us  royally — that  we  see.  And  in  every  faculty  of  our  souls  we 
perceive  what  ways  of  peace  there  are,  and  how  each  one  is  but  a  separate  path  in  the  garden 
that  should  be  filled  with  blossoms  and  overhung  with  fruits.  Alas  1  they  are  but  the  bj-ways  of 
the  wilderness,  and  in  each  faculty  we  find  thorns  and  briers  growing ;  and  overhung  they  are 
but  with  poisonous  vines  dropping  down  ichorous  fluids  upon  us.  O  Lord  our  God,  we  take  no 
comfort  or  complacency  in  looking  within  a  school  in  uproar.  Our  hearts  are  a  common^^■ealth 
in  distemperature  and  revolution.  We  are  in  our  natures  as  the  earth,  sometimes  held  fixed  in 
winter,  and  sometimes  beautiful  in  summer,  but  ever-changing.  Our  moods  come  and  go  as  the 
tides  come  and  go.  Nor  is  there  any  thing  that  satisfies  us  in  looking  within.  And  the  more 
deeply  we  look,  the  less  complacency  we  have. 

And  yet,  with  aU  this  consciousness,  how  proud  are  we  1  how  vain  are  wc !  We  know  our- 
selves to  be  unlovely;  and  yet,  we  walk  as  if  we  were  monarchs.  We  know  ourselves  to  be 
stained  with  evil;  and  yet,'how  do  we  look  with  contempt  upon  those  who,  around  about  us,  are 
stained  with  evil  1  We  are  guilty  of  all  manner  of  sin ;  and  that  we  know ;  and  yet  how  do  we  lord 
it  over  men  1  We  wander  in  darkness,  and  lose  our  v.ay ;  and  yet,  how  are  we  calling  to  one  and 
another  to  foUow  us  !  We  are  blind  leading  the  blind  ;  and  in  the  ditch  we  quarrel,  where  all  of 
us  have  tumbled  full  often.  And  what  is  there  in  us  that  thou  canst  love  when  thou  art  looking 
with  a  feeling  of  justice?  But  there  is  that  which  is  mightier  than  justice  in  thee.  When  thou 
dost  look  with  refinement  and  taste,  there  is  nothing  in  us  that  is  pleasing  to  thee ;  but  there  is 
that  which  is  mightier  than  art  and  beauty  in  thee.  When  thou  dost  look  vrith  thy  great  mother- 
heart  upon  us,  and  thou  dost  yearn  for  us,  even  as  children,  though  we  be  disobedient  children ; 
yea,  when  thou  dost  take  us  in  thine  arms,  and  look  upon  us  in  the  light  of  eternity,  then  thy 
love  and  thy  compassion  are  mightier  in  thee  than  is  summer  in  the  earth.  Then,  though  we  are 
defiled,  though  we  are  filled  with  disputing  qualities,  though  we  are  unlovely  to  ourselves  and  to 
our  fellows,  and  before  God,  thou  dost  love  us.  And  this  is  the  mystery  of  ages— how  Love  can 
love  the  unlovely.  Thou  knowest,  O  God,  altogether,  thyself  and  ourselves ;  and  thou  nnder- 
standest  what  is  this  mystery  hidden  from  ages.  We  do  not ;  but  we  desire  to  repose  in  the 
faith  of  it  utterly.  We  desire  to  rejoice  that  we  have  a  God  vrho  is  omnipotent  by  love,  that  by 
it  he  yet  -will  overcome  all  evil  on  the  earth,  and  purge  it  away,  that  by  it  he  yet  shall  control  the 
•wandering  spheres,  and  bring  them  back  to  harmony,  and  that  by  it  he  shall  yet  establish  thy 
kingdom,  and  the  city  thereof  whose  Builder  and  Maker  shall  be  God,  and  whose  name  is  Love. 

Oh !  that  we  might,  with  this  blessed  vision,  though  afar  off,  gird  up  our  loins  with  fresh  endea- 
vor and  with  new  hope.  For,  though  we  are  so  poor,  great  is  he  that  hath  undertaken  for  us  ; 
and  though  we  are  so  sinful,  thy  love  is  the  medicine  of  our  soul's  sickness.  Though  we  can 
do  nothing,  with  thee  we  can  do  all  things.  And  wc  begin  to  follow  thee  with  some  steps  of 
hope  now,  and  to  remember  that  there  have  been  hours  of  joy,  and  that  our  life  has  not 
been  dark,  though  it  has  deserved  to  be  ;  and  that  thou  hast  communed  with  us,  yea,  and  taken 
us  to  the  mountain-top,  and  been  transfigured  before  ma  ;  and  that  we  have  seen  saintly  forms 
with  thee,  and  heard  strange  voices  as  from  heaven,  and  desired  to  dwell-there;  and  that  we 
have  been  sent  down  where  still  at  the  base  of  the  mountain  demons  raged  with  an  endless  fury. 
Wc  have  been  taught  to  take  our  obsicrvailons  from  the  mountain's  top,  and  our  duties  from  the 


92  THE  STRONG  TO  BEAR   WITH  THE  WEAK. 

mountain's  bottom ;  and  so  ■we  have  gone  back  to  the  struggle  of  life,  to  daily  patience,  to  forbear- 
ance, to  the  gentler  virtues  of  the  household,  and  all  the  labors  of  the  street.  We  have  borne 
our  burdens ;  we  have  carried  our  sorrows  ;  we  have  been  conscious  of  our  mistakes  ;  we  have 
seen  our  deflections  and  stiunblings  ;  and  we  have  learned  to  look  upon  these  things  as  a  part  of 
that  mighty  v/ay  of  life  through  which  each  one  of  us  must  be  carried.  We  are  being  carried,  we 
know  not  how  nor  whither,  by  a  mightier  current  than  our  own.  But  thou  art  working  in  us  to 
wUl  and  to  do  of  thy  good  pleasure.  All  thiugs  shall  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love 
God. 

Now,  Lord,  we  love  thee,  or  else  there  is  nothing  that  we  love.  There  is  nothing  sweet  in 
the  light,  nothing  beauteous  in  summer,  nothing  dear  In  home  ;  there  is  no  treasure  in  friendship 
nor  ecstasy  in  love,  that  we  know,  if  we  do  not  love  thee.  Our  love  to  thee  is  imperfect,  it  is 
inconstant,  it  is  far  less  than  should  come  from  such  natures  as  ours  ;  but  it  is  there  in  its  begin- 
ning, overborne,  but  not  desti-oyed.  Our  love  for  thee  is  as  the  light  which  one  carries  at  mid- 
night in  the  street,  upon  which  the  vrinds  so  fiercely  blow  that  it  ceases  to  be  a  guide,  but  which 
is  not  put  out,  and  with  every  favoring  lull  flames  up  again. 

And  so,  with  inconstant  afi'ection,  which  is  the  best  that  we  can  bring  thee  ;  with  very  imper- 
fect dispositions  and  impure  hearts,  which  are  aU  that  we  have,  we  bring  ourselves  this  morning, 
in  a  flush  of  confidence,  crying.  Dearly  beloved  Saviour,  do  again  what  thou  hast  done  a  thousand 
times  for  us.  Stretch  forth  thine  hands  and  look  benignantly  upon  us,  and  say,  Peace  be  with  yon  I 
Give  us  that  peace  which  the  world  can  not  give,  aud  which  we  have  tried  for  and  found  not. 

And,  we  pray  thee,  from  day  to  day,  as  our  footsteps  are  shortening,  and  we  are  draw- 
ing near  to  the  other  side,  grant  a  growing  faith  in  the  heavenly  land,  and  in  the  salvation  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Teach  us  to  be  more  gentle,  more  meek,  more  humble,  more  bold  and  valiant 
for  the  right,  and  yet  in  a  spirit  of  love  to  love  men,  because  thou  dost  love  them :  not  because 
they  are  like  us,  but  because  they  are  thy  children,  and  have  in  them  the  seeds  of  Immortality. 

And  we  beseech  of  thee,  O  Lord  our  God,  that  thou  wilt  teach  our  hands  to  labor  more  wisely 
and  more  tirelessly.  May  we  do  good  because  the  days  are  hastening.  What  we  have  to  do  we 
must  do  quickly.  What  we  may  do  with  wealth,  what  we  may  do  with  knowledge,  what  we  may 
do  with  tasto  or  beauty,  whatever  we  may  do  with  any  instrument  which  thou  hast  placed  in  our 
hands,  we  must  do  with  our  might ;  for  the  night  cometh  when  no  man  can  work. 

Give  new  alacrity  to  every  worker.  Grant  that  thy  servants  may  not  look  forward  to  the  day 
when  in  leisure  they  shall  take  the  fruition  of  what  they  aire  doing  in  toil.  May  they  understand 
that  toil  is  its  own  sweetness,  and  that  in  work  they  have  their  rest,  and  that  so  long  as  they  live 
they  are  to  be  laborers  with  God  in  the  glorious  work  of  renovating  this  world. 

O  Lord,  hasten  the  day  I  We  shall  not  sec  it  out  of  these  spheres.  There  never  shall  resoimd 
in  our  ears  upon  earth  the  music  of  perfect  concord.  We  shall  behold  it  by  thy  side  ;  but  not 
from  this  life.  Yet  hasten  the  day  when  men  shall  hate  no  more ;  when  men  shall  be  no  more 
thirsty  for  blood ;  when  men  shall  not  seek  to  grind  and  oppress  their  fellow-men ;  when  man 
shall  love  his  fellow,  and  seek  to  buUd  him  up.  Hasten  that  long-delayed  day  ;  for  still  tears  flow, 
and  blood ;  still  groans  are  heard.  The  whole  creation  groaneth  and  travaileth  in  pain  until  now. 
Come,  thou  Deliverer,  waiting  through  ages — mysteriously  come  for  the  deliverance  of  the  earth ; 
and  exalt  it,  and  glorify  it,  that  there  shall  be  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  earth  in  which  dwell  right- 
eousness. 

And  unto  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Amen. 


vn. 

Growth  m  the  Ki^owledge  of  God: 


GROWTH  m  THE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  GOD. 

SUNDAY   MORNING,  NOVEMBER  1,  1868. 


"  But  grow  in  grace,  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus 
Clirist."— 3  Pet.  in.  18. 


To  increase  in  the  knowledge  of  God  is  distinctly  command- 
ed, not  in  this  passage  alone,  but  in  very  many.  The  progress  of 
the  mind  in  the  knowledge  of  physical  truth,  scientific  truth,  de- 
pends very  much  upon  the  exercise  of  the  senses  upon  matter; 
but  the  growth  of  knowledge  in  moral  truth  depends  uj3on  the  exer- 
cise of  moral  feelings.  While  sense  is  the  source  of  physical  or  sci- 
entific knowledge,  disposition  is  the  source  of  the  knowledge  of 
moral  truth.  Growth  in  the  knowledge  of  a  Divine  Being  unites  both 
of  these.  That  is  to  say,  there  is  a  revelation  of  God  in  the  natural 
world,  and  there  is  also  a  revelation  of  God  in  society  and  in  the  so- 
cial nature  of  man.  But  as  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  a  representation 
of  divine  nature  in  its  moral  aspects  chiefly,  rather  than  in  its  foren- 
sic or  executive  elements,  it  is  to  be  learned  by  moral  growth  in  our- 
selves more  than  in  any  other  way.  Hence  the  text  is,  "  Grow  in 
grace^'''*  as  if  it  were  in  that  way  only  that  you  could  grow  "  in  the 
knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ."  Grace  is  the 
schoolmaster  of  knowledge.  Therefore  we  find  such  expressions  in 
Paul,  (this  is  from  Peter,)  where,  in  the  4th  of  Ephesians,  and  the 
15th  verse,  he  exhorts  them  to  speak  the  truth.  "  Speaking  the  truth 
in  love,  that  ye  may  grow  up  into  him  in  all  things,  which  is  the 
head,  even  Christ  " — groioing  being  here  identified  with  the  develop- 
ment of  such  dispositions  as  make  us  identical  with  Christ. 

Let  us,  then,  trace  the  steps  of  growth  in  the  knowledge  of  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

1.  The  earliest  knowledge  which  we  have  of  divine  existence  is 

Lesson  ;  Colossiana  1.    Htmns  (Plymouth  Collection) ;  Nos,  C53,  607. 


94  anowTE  m  the  knowledge  of  gob. 

derived,  undoubtedly,  from  teachers  and  parents.  It  differs,  there- 
fore, in  children,  according  to  the  instruction  which  they  receive.  It 
is  ampler  or  scantier,  it  is  more  wisely  or  less  wisely  imparted,  ac- 
cording to  circumstances.  In  all  things  it  comes  to  them  by  teach- 
ing from  without.  We  are  generally  told  what  Christ  did,  and  by  a 
few  formulas  we  are  told  what  God  is. 

But  the  child-raind  fills  up  these  outlines'  from  its  own  slender 
stock  of  moral  experiences,  transferring  to  God  from  its  little  round  of 
daily  life  that  which  it  hears,  feels,  or  is  inspired  to  think,  from  the 
household  life.  If  the  notion  entertained  by  children  could  be  ana- 
lyzed, I  think  it  would  be  found  to  consist  largely  of  the  social  and 
moral  qualities  which  exist  in  the  family,  framed  and  bordered  with 
their  imaginations,  in  which  physical  qualities  largely  inhere.  The  at- 
tributes, affections,  and  dispositions  of  God  are  to  them  but  a  faint  trac- 
ing, a  faint  rendering,  of  that  which  they  see  in  their  earthly  friends. 
A  God  by  definitions  is  never  a  living  God ;  and  a  child  is  incompetent 
to  understand  such  a  being.  The  catechisms  which  children  receive 
very  seldom  add  any  thing  to  their  notions  of  God — certainly  not  the 
strictly  theological  catechisms.  As  I  recollect  it,  the  God  of  the 
Westminster  Catechism  ought  not  to  be  called  Jehovah,  but  Analy- 
sis.  As  I  recollect  my  own  infancy,  when  I  had  gone  through  the  ac- 
cumulated words  which  defined  God,  I  went  through  nothing !  They 
left  no  impi-ess  upon  my  imagination.  They  taught  my  feeling  noth- 
ing. They  Avere  not  home-words.  They  were  not  usually  words  that 
belonged  to  the  home  language.  They  had  no  hearth  in  them — 
no  family  in  them.  There  was  little  to  them,  and  I  got  little  from 
them.  And  yet,  I  had  a  very  vivid  concej^tion  of  God — formed  al- 
most Avholly,  however,  by  the  transfer  of  family  affections  and  know- 
ledge to  the  divine  name. 

2.  I  suspect  that  the  next  stage  of  growth  consists  in  clothing 
these  abstract  notions,  which  we  gain  very  early,  and  which  are 
taught  out  of  catechisms,  with  the  facts  of  the  history  of  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  as  they  are  narrated  by  the  Evangelists.  If  we  suj^pose  thati 
there  is  a  progress,  and  that  the  child  takes  his  earlier  conceptions  of 
the  nature  of  God  and  goes  forward  with  them,  I  suspect  that  the 
next  stage  of  development  consists  in  clothing  these  more  slender  no- 
tions with  the  ampler  history  which  is  contained  in  the  Gospel.  And 
I  suspect  that  if  the  truth  were  known,  it  would  be  found  that  the 
great  multitude  of  men  never  get  much  further  than  this.  When 
they  think  of  power  and  government,  they  imagine  God,  perhaps  in 
the  upper  sphere ;  but  when  they  clothe  the  divine  nature  Avith  feel- 
ings and  dispositions  and  emotions,  I  suspect  that  they  always  look 
back  for  their  God — not  iq)  ;  that,  to  them,  he  is  a  dweller  in  history, 
not  a  dweller  in  heaven ;  and  that  they  conceive  of  Jerusalem  and 


GROWTH  m   THE  KNOWLEDGE   OF  GOD.  95 

Galilee.  I  susjiect  that  when  they  think  of  Christ  they  scarcely 
ever  take  him  out  from  the  historical  facts  under  which  he  is  repre- 
sented; that  they  picture  Christ's  words  and  actions  and  life  as  re- 
corded in  the  Evangelists ;  and  that  it  is  seldom  transfigured ;  that  it 
is  seldom  enlarged  by  reason  or  imagination,  but  is  kept  down  with- 
in terrestrial  horizons.  So  that  it  may  be  said  of  hundreds  of  people, 
that  their  God  is,  literally,  yet  entombed  in  the  Bible.  He  sleeps 
there  in  the  record  of  history,  and  they  have  no  power  to  bring  him 
out.  They  do  not  use  these  records  as  building  materials  out  of 
which  to  develoj)  an  ever-increasing  conception  of  heavenly  excel- 
lence ;  but,  in  a  kind  of  Byzantine  feebleness  and  observance,  they  go 
on  through  life  reproducing  the  literal  annunciation  of  facts,  and  tell- 
ing them  over  and  over  and  over,  as  the  devotee  does  his  beads ;  and, 
like  the  beads  of  the  devotee,  too  often  the  facts  are  worn  so  smooth 
by  much  handling  that  they  pass  through  the  hand  without  any  dis- 
tinct impression. 

My  own  experience,  in  dealing  with  men,  is  that  the  greatest  num- 
ber of  them  have  almost  no  definite  conceptions  of  God.  And  when 
men  begin  to  be  awakened  under  the  ]50wer  of  the  truth  and  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  to  ask  their  way  toward  God,  nothing  is  so  common 
as  the  com2)laint  that  they  can  form  no  idea  of  God,  and  that  to 
them,  after  all,  there  is  no  tangible  and  presentable  God. 

3.  But  if  one  be  of  a  devout  nature,  and  he  be  earnestly  alive  to 
moral  growth,  then  his  reading  and  his  childhood  instruction,  after 
being  subject  to  reflection,  to  mental  digestion,  will  carry  him  for- 
ward one  step  further  in  the  growth  of  the  knowledge  of  God.  His 
conception  of  the  divine  natui-e  will  begin  to  enlarge  and  fill  out  in 
every  direction,  if  only  there  is  a  real,  active,  earnest  moral  life  going 
on  within  him. 

In  this  work,  the  imagination  will  be  the  architect,  reason  will  be 
the  master-builder,  and  the  materials  will  come  largely  from  expe- 
rience. 

A  personal  element,  however,  will  come  in  to  determine,  at  this 
stage  of  growth,  very  much  of  the  conceptions  which  men  form. 
That  personal  element  will  be  the  relative  sensitiveness  and  creative 
force  of  the  faculties  that  belong  to  the  different  individuals. 

Thus,  a  literal  and  mechanical  nature  will  bring  to  the  study  of 
divinity  its  own  peculiarities.  That  part  of  the  man's  mind  which  is 
the  most  susceptible  to  impressions  will  of  course  interpret  to  him 
the  most ;  and  the  result  will  be  a  lively  sense  of  those  truths  of 
God's  nature  which  address  themselves  to  the  more  active  faculties 
of  his  being. 

One  man  will  erect  a  magistracy.  A  magistrate  will  seem 
enough  to  inclose  all  the  ideas  which  he  has  formed  of  God.    Another 


96       GROWTH  IN  TEE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  GOD. 

man  will  erect  a  government ;  and  to  be  a  ruler,  a  governor,  a  king, 
embraces  all  that  is  included  in  bis  notion  of  the  divine  nature.  An- 
other man  will  erect  a  spirit  of  power ;  and  to  be  omnipotent  is  suffi- 
cient to  fill  out  his  conception  of  God.  Another  man  will  develop  a 
social  being.  The  social  faculties  are  the  most  active  in  him ;  and 
the  materials  by  which  his  imagination  is  to  shape  the  conceptions  of 
a  higher  being  will  largely  spring  from  the  most  fruitful  part  of  his 
mind — his  social  nature.  His  conception  of  God  will  be  full  of  the 
social  element.  Still  another  kind  of  nature  there  is,  which  dwells 
largely,  by  its  constitutional  tendency,  in  the  region  of  taste  and 
beauty.  This  is  an  artist  nature,  a  poetic  nature ;  and  as  the  materials 
of  his  mind  out  of  which  he  is  by  his  imagination  to  fashion  a  con- 
ception of  God  are  ministered  from  these  more  active  faculties,  so 
you  shall  find  that  he  has  a  God  in  whom  these  elements  predomi- 
nate. Still  another  will  shape  the  divine  thought  into  a  thought  of 
philosophy,  or  into  a  philosopher.  Another  will  have  the  strongest 
tendency  in  himself  toward  benevolence ;  and  the  progress  of  his 
soul  will  be  fruitful  in  this  element.  His  conception  of  God  will  be 
pervaded  with  this  one  distinct  tendency  of  benevolence ;  and  his 
realm  will  be  all  sunshine,  and  his  universe  all  summer. 

Thus,  a  proud  man,  from  the  necessity  of  his  disposition,  will  be 
susceptible  to  those  traits  of  the  divine  nature,  as  they  are  recorded 
in  the  Bible,  which  are  interpreted  by  the  feeling  of  pride.  A  man 
of  large  conscientiousness,  large  self-esteem,  relatively  small  benevo- 
lence, and  large  reflective  powers,  is  a  born  Calvinist.  What  is  a 
Calvinist  ?  Any  mind  that  is  so  constituted  that  it  is  in  sympathy 
with  intense  ideas  of  governor  and  government  is  Calvinistic.  A 
man,  on  the  contrary,  that  has  large  benevolence  and  social  feelings, 
and  not  large  self-esteem  and  conscientiousness,  is  almost  of  necessity 
an  Arminian.  What  is  an  Arminian,  as  thus  distinguished  from  a 
Calvinist  ?  He  is  one  that  is  in  sympathy  with  the  governed.  Cal- 
vinism goes  for  governor  and  government :  Arminianism  goes  for  the 
people.  They  are  both  of  them  partialisms,  and  they  are  both  of 
them  true.  In  the  Arminian  church  there  are  thousands  of  men  that 
supply  the  Calvinism  for  themselves,  in  spite  of  their  creed ;  as  in  the 
Calvinistic  church  there  are  thousands  that  supply  for  themselves  the 
Arminianism,  mixing  their  food  to  suit  their  palate.  In  this  regard 
no  church  is  a  true  practical  representation  of  its  own  creed.  It  be- 
comes mixed,  inevitably,  at  a  few  stages  of  advance. 

Some  men  become,  by  the  tendency  of  these  powers  in  them,  eccle- 
siastical worshipers.  Some  men  are  born  Catholics,  and  some  men 
are  born  Episcopalians.  That  is,  there  is  that  in  them  which  craves, 
and,  craving,  is  sensitive  to  the  existence,  or  the  evidence  of  exist- 
ence, of  such  elements  as  belong  to  their  peculiar  forms  of  worship, 
either  in  the  Bible  or  in  history. 


OBOWTE  m  THE  KNOWLEDGE   OF   OOD.  97 

Imagine  magnets  of  as  many  different  kinds  as  there  are  different 
metals ;  imagine  one  magnet  tliat  shall  only  draw  iron  ;  imagine 
another  that  shall  draw  no  iron,  but  that  shall  invariably  draw 
copper ;  imagine  still  another  that  shall  draw  no  iron  and  no  copper, 
but  that  shall  draw  lead  ;  and,  these  magnets  being  passed  through  a 
mass  of  filings  of  the  different  metals,  each  one  will  take  that  which 
it  wants,  and  will  separate  it  from  all  the  rest. 

Men's  minds  are  magnets.  One  man  going  into  the  Bible,  or  into 
the  realm  of  experience,  liis  mind  seeks  that  which  shall  feed  his 
strongest  faculties — his  ideality,  his  self-esteem,  his  conscience,  and 
his  reason;  and  he  draws  those  elements  out,  and  leaves  all  the 
others.  He  sees  those,  and  feels  those ;  ^nd  he  is  astonished  if  any 
body  can  resist  the  evidence  which  is  so  irresistible  to  him.  He  has 
a  Calvinistic  conception  of  God  which  is  overwhelming  to  him,  and 
to  every  other  man  who  is  organized  just  as  he  is. 

But  here  is  another  man  that  stands  near  him  whose  magnet  draws 
another  kind  of  filings,  and  who  is  just  as  true  to  himself  He  has  an 
inward  want  of  a  conception  that  is  all  beaming,  and  genial,  and  sweet, 
and  tender.  He  does  not  disbelieve  in  righteousness,  nor  in  con- 
science, nor  in  law,  nor  in  government ;  but  he  is  relatively  insen- 
sitive to  these,  as  he  is  sensitive  to  those  other  elements.  This  man's 
constitutional  endowment  draws  to  him  all  that  goes  to  make  up  this 
partialism,  and  he  is  amazed  to  hear  one  talk  so  like  a  fool  as  his 
brother  does.  He  has  read  the  Bible,  and  he  has  seen  no  such  evi- 
dence as  that  which  his  brother  professes  to  have  seen.  Why,  to 
him  it  is  as  clear  as  noonday  that  God  is  all  summer. 

A  third  man,  standing  and  looking  upon  these  disputants,  says : 
"  They  are  fools,  both  of  them.  I  do  not  think  God  cares  much 
about  government,  or  much  about  this  benevolence.  It  seems  to 
me  that  God  is  a  lover  of  things  in  order,  full  of  taste,  and  full  of 
proportion,  and  full  of  harmony.  He  is  all  music,  and  all  blossom, 
and  all  beauty,  as  I  conceive  of  him.  Give  me  some  mighty  architect, 
some  sui^ernal  artist,  some  wonderful  genius ;  that  is  my  God."  That 
part  of  this  man's  mind  which  craves  these  things  being  most  sensi- 
tive, he  takes  just  that  class  of  materials.  His  magnet  draws  those 
things  and  no  others.  The  consequence  is,  that  you  very  seldom  find 
a  man  so  all-sided,  and  so  proportioned  on  all  sides,  that  he  can  build 
out  of  his  consciousness,  or  reflection,  or  research,  a  symmetrical  idea 
of  the  divine  nature  which  has  all  these  elements,  and  has  them  all 
in  proportion  and  in  a  suitable  balance. 

KI  were  to  ask,  "  What  God  have  you  ?"  you  would  hand  me  out 
the  catechism,  many  of  you.  I  would  say,  "  That  is  the  God  of  the 
catechism  ;  what  is  you7'  God  ?"  You  would  say,  "  Do  you  charge 
me  with  insincerity  ?     Do  not  you  think  that  I  believe  the  confession 


98  GBOWTE  m  TEE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  GOD. 

which  I  have  subscribed  to  ?"  No,  I  do  not  believe  that  one  in  a 
thousand  does.  There  are  causes  more  than  your  volition  by  which 
you  are  governed.  Tour  organic  nature,  its  hungers  and  its  attrac- 
tions, will  fulfill  your  destiny  in  spite  of  you,  and  over  you,  as  well  as 
through  you. 

There  is  not  a  different  God,  but  a  varying  conception  of 
God.  There  is  a  different  operating  power  belonging  to  the 
different  conceptions  of  God  as  they  exist  in  men  who  are  very 
clearly  separated  and  marked  one  from  another  by  a  different  con- 
stitution. 

4.  There  is  a  powerful  influence  at  work  in  the  formation  and 
growth  of  the  knowledge  of  God,  as  derived  from  experience.  God 
is  the  soul's  food,  as  we  are  told — the  bread  of  life.  Take  that  con- 
ception as  an  illustration.  As  men's  diet  differs  according  to  the 
climate  in  which  they  live,  according  to  the  industrial  pursuits  which 
they  follow,  according  to  their  state  of  life,  so  the  soul's  weakness  or 
its  strength,  its  bitter  or  its  sweet,  its  sorrow  or  its  joy,  its  duties  or 
its  pleasures,  bring  to  the  soul  a  phase  of  the  divine  nature  which 
it  needs.  I  have  spoken  of  the  principle  of  selection  as  it  depends 
on  organic  tendencies.  But  our  actual  experiences  have  a  determin- 
ing force  also.  For  example,  if  I  am  a  robust  man,  I  more  frequently 
consort  with  men  who  are  vigorous  and  enterprising,  like  myself.  If 
I  am  in  business,  I  seek  to  walk  and  talk  with  business  men.  If  I  am 
a  traveler,  and  delight  in  climbing  mountains,  I  seek  some  member  of 
an  Alpine  club.  If  I  am  an  artist,  I  call  to  myself  those  that,  like  me, 
have  an  artist-taste.  If  I  am  sick,  I  seek  my  doctor,  whom  I  should 
not,  perhaps,  otherwise  choose.  It  is  my  want  that  calls.  If  I  am 
troubled  for  money,  I  court  my  banker.  If  I  am  embroiled  in  diffi- 
culties, I  court  my  lawyer.  My  action  in  these  respects  is  determined 
by  the  exigencies  of  my  daily  experience. 

This  is  merely  illustration,  and  coarse  illustration  at  that ;  never- 
theless, it  is  enough  to  give  a  general  conception  of  the  fact  that 
every  true  moral  nature  that  is  attempting  to  live  bj  the  power  of 
the  invisible,  and  in  commerce  and  commimion  with  the  divine,  al- 
most unconsciously  to  himself  is  drawing  upon  this  attribute,  and 
upon  that  attribute,  according  to  the  circumstances  in  which  he  is 
placed. 

If  a  person  lies  sick,  to  him  all  the  world  is  cut  off,  all  hopes  are 
ended,  all  life  seems  sad.  He  does  not  turn  to  the  jubilant  side  of 
God.  He  turns  to  those  sides  on  which  God  declares  that  he  comforts 
the  sorrowing  as  a  mother  comforts  her  children.  The  pitying,  sus- 
taining elements  of  divine  love — these  come,  and  properly  come,  down 
to  that  person,  and  he  finds  just  that  which  he  needs,  and  feeds  on  that 
side.      Another  person  is  put  in  circumstances  by  God's  providence 


GBOWTU  IN   THE  KNOWLEDGE   OF  GOD.  99 

where  he  needs  j^eriietual  nerve  and  perijetnal  enterprise.  The  sterner, 
the  more  active  elements  of  the  divine  nature  are  congenial  to  his 
want  and  to  his  experience.  And  so  he  ponders  these  most,  and 
comes  to  these  most.  Is  one  discouraged  ?  He  looks  for  something 
in  his  God  that  shall  encourage  him.  Is  one  sad  from  remorse  and 
repentance  ?  He  looks  to  the  forgiving  side  of  God.  Is  one  set  to 
defend  the  truth  in  a  period  of  backsliding  and  persecution?  He  in- 
stinctively goes  after  the  prophet's  God.  He  seeks  that  God  who 
controls  nations,  and  who  swings  the  earth  as  if  it  were  but  a  drop 
in  his  hand.  Those  views  of  God  which  make  him  mighty,  and 
which  lift  men  who  are  in  sympathy  with  him  above  the  fluctuations 
or  the  tides  of  the  affairs  of  men — those  are  the  views  which  the  soul 
in  such  an  experimental  necessity  craves,  and  which  it  studies.  And, 
as  a  consequence,  we  develop  in  ourselves,  by  constant  using,  more  and 
more  those  aspects  of  the  divine  nature  which  are  remedial,  which 
arc  nourishing,  which  are  stimulative,  and  which  we,  in  the  circum- 
stances in  which  God's  providence  has  placed  us,  from  an  inward 
reason  crave. 

Thus  you  would  find,  frequently,  if  you  could  look  at  the  God  that 
we  use,  that  it  is  a  very  different  God  from  that  in  which  we  believe. 
If  you  were  to  ask  a  mother,  who  has  lived  in  poverty,  contesting 
difiiculties  mightily ;  who  has  an  unworthy  husband,  and  yet  holds 
him  up ;  Avho  at  last  succeeds  in  redeeming  his  soul ;  who  has  carried 
her  children — 0  sad  life  ! — defending  them  all  the  way  through, 
against  their  own  father,  teaching  them  to  love  him  whom  they  na- 
turally would  abhor ;  Avho  has  been  patient,  with  many  temptations 
of  separation,  and  many  temptations  of  despondency ;  who  has  had. 
many  days  in  which  the  light  was  as  darkness,  and  who  yet  has 
gone  through  forty  weary  years — if  you  were  to  ask  her,  "  What  is 
the  God  in  whom  you  believe  ?"  she  very  likely  would  recite  to  you 
the  God  of  omniscience,  and  oinnipotence^  and  omnipresence,  rehears- 
ing all  those  Latin  words  ;  but  that  is  not  her  God.  If  you  say  to 
her  in  the  hours  of  her  distress,  "Where  did  you  get  your  comfort? 
What  were  the  revelations  of  prayer  ?  What  did  you  see  when  you 
were  at  your  wits'  end  ?"  you  would  find  that  she  would  describe 
what  was  her  experience  ;  and  you  Avould  find  that  she  had  a  notion 
of  the  divine  nature  which  was  more  than  any  of  these  thought-drawn 
divinities  or  conceptions  of  the  divine.  You  would  find  that  it  was 
wliat  she  had  arrived  at  experimentally,  and  that  her  heart  and  her 
life  were  her  theologians. 

5.  One  of  the  most  powerful  influences,  aside  from  those  which  I 
have  mentioned,  for  the  sliaping  of  our  conceptions  and  the  develop- 
ment of  our  knowledge  of  God,  is  the  necessity  or  the  attempt  to  em- 
ploy the  divine  nature  in  the  rescue  and  education  of  our  fellow-iucn. 


100      GROWTH  m   THE  EFOWLEDOE   OF  GOD. 

To  bring  the  divine  nature  home  to  all  the  phases  of  character  which 
surround  us,  to  all  the  conditions  of  life,  and  to  the  subjugation  of  the 
strong  attributes  of  the  mind;  to  find  men  just  where  they  are  in  all 
their  infinite  variations  of  condition ;  to  find  that  which  arrests  their 
attention ;  to  find  that  which  shall  insi^ire  in  them  some  moral  re- 
action ;  to  find  that  which  shall  feed  them — this  is  one  of  the  most 
potential  of  all  influences  for  developing  in  you  the  growth  of  the  di- 
vine idea.  I  can  bear  witness  of  this — that  not  all  books,  certainly 
not  all  ratiocination,  and  not  all  influences  beside,  have  ever  done  so 
much  for  me  as  my  attempt  to  find  that  in  the  divine  conception 
which  should  do  good  to  some  fellow-being.  In  the  presence  of  men 
who  were  inquiring  ;  in  the  presence  of  men  who  were  fettered  and 
bound  hand  and  foot ;  in  the  presence  of  men  who  were  bewildered, 
or  depraved,  or  embittered,  to  find  such  a  conception  as  would  bring 
the  light  and  the  j)Ower  of  the  divine  nature  in  upon  their  souls,  has 
been  the  instruction  that  has  lifted  up  before  me  nobler  and  grander, 
and,  I  think,  truer  conceptions  of  the  divine  nature  than  books  ever 
have  recorded,  or  than  otherwise  could  ever  have  been  framed.  And 
no  man  is  such  a  student  in  the  direction  of  the  knowledge  of  God, 
no  man  knows  how  to  grow  so  fast  and  so  wisely  in  that  knowledge, 
as  the  man  who  is  attempting  to  find  out  the  ways  of  God  for  the 
sake  of  bringing  men  up  from  darkness  to  light,  and  from  sickness  to 
health,  in  moral  things. 

"We  speak  of  men  who  are  working  for  their  fellow-men  as  weaJc 
enthusiasts.  Sometimes  they  are  called,  by  way  of  contempt,  p/i?7a?i- 
tkrojnsts,  and  sentimentalists.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  innocent  ridi- 
cule, and  some  that  is  not  so  innocent,  heaped  upon  those  who  are  all 
the  time  trying  to  do  good  to  their  fellow-men.  But,  after  all,  there 
is  nothing  in  this  world  that  is  comparable  to  it ;  and  the  faintest  en- 
deavor in  that  direction  is  more  praiseworthy  than  the  most  success- 
ful works  of  art.  Is  he  that  carved  Moses'  statue,  is  he  that  spanned 
the  dome  of  St.  Peter's  by  marble,  is  he  that  knows  how  to  make 
the  marble  breathe,  to  be  remembered  as  a  son  of  genius  through  all 
the  ages  ?  and  is  not  he  to  be  counted  worthy  of  thought  who  works, 
not  in  marble,  nor  in  clay,  nor  in  metal,  but  in  the  living  souls  of  men  ? 
That  man  who  can  take  the  poor,  the  despised,  the  blind,  the  passion- 
bound  creature,  and  work  out  in  him  the  divine  image,  yet  one  day 
will  rise  higher  by  his  work  than  any  artist  genius  that  ever  lived  and 
wrought  upon  the  earth.  For  there  is  no  material  like  human  nature, 
and  there  is  no  dignity  like  working  in  it,  and  there  is  no  grandeur 
like  success  in  thus  working.  It  is  declared  that  he  who  saves  a  soul 
from  death  shall  shine  like  the  stars  of  the  firmament  in  the  future 
kingdom  of  God. 

While,  then,  we  are  working  for  the  poor,  we  are  doing  a  work, 


i 


GROWTH  IN   THE  KNOWLEDGE   OF   GOD.  101 

if  we  only  knew  it,  that  is  the  most  illustrious  which  it  is  possible  for 
a  man  to  do  in  all  the  world. 

These  are  the  principal  ways  that  suggest  themselves  to  me,  in 
which  we  grow  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus 
Christ.  And  if  we  be  living  Christians,  true  men,  we  are  growing. 
Our  conception  of  the  divine  nature  never  remains  at  the  same  stage 
for  any  considerable  length  of  time.  It  is  enlarging  itself  by  experi- 
ence; it  is  enriching  itself  by  the  jjosition  and  circumstances  in  which 
we  are  placed,  so  that  no  man  can  compass  in  words  what  he  be- 
lieves of  God.  If  he  believes  all  things  that  come  through  his  in- 
tensified affections,  through  his  various  wants,  and  through  the  wants  of 
those  round  about  him,  these,  methodized  by  reflection,  and  vitalized 
by  imagination,  constitute  an  air-filling  notion  of  God,  so  vast  and  so 
continually  changing  that  any  body  would  say,  "  It  is  impossible  for 
a  man  to  write  what  he  thinks  or  to  say  what  he  thinks" — as  we 
should  suppose  it  would  be,  ^f  God  is  infinite,  and  is  overflowing  ac- 
cording to  the  conception  which  the  thought  of  infinity  inspires.  And 
so,  every  creative  mind,  every  active  mind,  that  is  really  in  union 
with  God  by  prayer  and  by  afiinity,  and  is  working  like  him,  as  well 
as  with  him,  and  day  by  day  is  still  augmenting  in  these  various  ways 
his  realizations  of  God,  having  the  divine  spirit  in  him,  and  growing 
evermore  up  into  him  in  all  things,  who  is  the  head,  Jesus  Christ — 
every  such  man  has  a  growth  of  which  he  himself  is  not  conscious, 
and  which  he  never  can  and  never  could  represent  to  others. 

The  sublimest  picture-gallery  in  the  world  is  often  found  in  some 
obscure  and  unknown  Christian — some  poor  slave ;  some  poor  toiler; 
some  humble  teacher ;  some  maiden  sister,  with  groans  and  pains  at 
every  step  of  her  life-long  rearing  others,  and  following  in  the  steps 
of  Christ.  If,  as  angels  do,  we  could  look  into  the  souls  of  such  poor 
obscure  j^eojDle,  and  see  their  conception  of  their  Saviour,  of  their 
God,  and  of  the  hope  and  joy  which  these  conceptions  insjDire,  we 
should  see  a  picture  more  magnificent  than  was  ever  rendered  by  artist 
brush. 

If,  therefore,  men  find  that  their  notions  of  the  Divine  are  very 
obscure,  my  first  remark  is,  that  they  have  j^robably  gone  the  Avrong 
way  to  work.  You  never  will  excogitate  a  true  or  comforting  view 
of  God.  You  never  will,  in  the  line  of  reasoning  alone,  develop  that 
conception  of  God  which  you  want.  Reason  has  its  function,  its 
ofiice ;  but  it  is  not  the  chief,  by  any  manner  of  means.  We  are  to 
grow  in  the  knowledge  of  God  by  our  likeness  to  him — by  reproduc- 
ing the  moral  kind,  though  not  the  moral  degree  and  power,  of  the 
divine  attributes,  in  ourselves. 

There  are  many  men  who  are  yet  disputing  and  doubting,  affirm- 
ing and  representing  and  experimenting,  in  order  that  they  may  ob- 


i02      GROWTH  m   THE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  GOD. 

tain  a.  conception  of  God  which  shall  he  satisfying  to  them.  You 
might  just  as  well  undertake  with  chalk  to  make  a  sun  that  shall 
create  flowers  in  your  garden,  you  might  as  well  undertake  out  of 
chemistry  to  reproduce  nature,  as  to  undertake  by  mere  ratiocination 
to  bring  out  a  conception  of  the  divine  mind  that  will  satisfy  you, 
inspire  you,  cheer  you,  and  carry  you  forward.  Men  live  into  God. 
They  find  him  out  in  finding  themselves  out.  They  feel  after  him,  if 
haply  they  may  find  him.  Truth  and  knowledge  come  in  these  ways. 
They  come  in  flushes ;  they  come  in  inspirations ;  they  come  in  tears 
and  sighs,  often ;  they  come  in  patience  and  bearing ;  they  come  in  mer- 
cies that  we  perform  toward  others  ;  and  we  receive,  by  rebound,  the 
revelation  that  God  is  infinite  in  just  those  things.  And  then  we 
perceive  that  there  is  in  us  something  that  is  separable  and  separate 
and  apart  from  human  selfishness.  We  look  upon  it  in  mother, 
in  sister,  in  wife,  in  the  little  child,  and  in  self,  as  pure  and  beauteous. 
God  teaches  us  by  the  Spirit,  and  tea«hes  us  by  the  imagination ; 
and  it  is  regeneration  itself  to  gain  a  conception  of  the  proportions 
of  Divinity.  Then  we  say,  "  This  is  the  sjiark  among  men,  and  there 
is  the  Solar  Orb  where  the  spark  dwelt,  and  whence  it  issued." 

And  so  we  live  out  our  knowledge  of  God.  "We  gain  our  know- 
ledge of  him  by  being  like  him.  Any  man  that  is  trying  to  think 
out  his  way  to  God,  instead  of  living  his  way  to  God,  will  find  that 
he  has  mistaken  the  method.  Philosophizing,  then,  is  the  wrong 
mode. 

That  is  the  trouble  with  the  scientists  of  to-day.  Nature  is  not 
infidel;  but  those  are,  largely,  who  study  her.  Science  is  not 
unchristian  nor  irreligious,  though  multitudes  are  who  give  them- 
selves up  to  science.  They  are  attempting  to  come  to  God  head 
first.  They  must  come  to  him  heart  first.  Then  let  their  head 
interpret  what  they  have  found. 

This  view  should  lead  persons  to  study  and  consider  what 
their  condition  is — whether  they  have  any  living  influential  concep- 
tion of  God.  You  have  been  taught  that  he  is  the  Ruler,  that  he  is 
the  Governor.  Is  he  your  Guide  ?  Is  he  your  Master  ?  Is  he  your 
Friend  ?  Is  he  your  Companion  ?  Does  he  smile  on  you  ?  Does  he 
converse  with  you  ?  Is  he  the  Toiler  with  our  toil  ?  Does  he  rest 
when  you  rest,  and  travel  when  you  travel  ?  Do  you  live  and  move 
and  have  your  being  in  him  ?  If  so,  you  have  a  God,  and  you  have 
reason  for  endless  congratulation  and  joy.  But  if  your  God  is  in  the 
Catechism,  or  in  the  Evangelists,  you  have  no  God.  He  is  dead,  he 
is  buried,  to  you.  It  is  a  lifeless  thing.  It  is  a  mere  conception.  It 
is  a  figment  that  hangs  without  juice,  or  beauty,  or  use. 

Contentment  in  what  one  already  knows  indicates,  of  course, 
poverty  and  winter  of  the  soul.   It  is  true  that  if  we  attempt  to  state 


GROWTH  IN   THE  KNOWLEDGE   OF  GOD.  103 

the  results  of  our  experience  as  far  as  they  can  be  stated  in  the  lan- 
guage of  intellection,  in  the  language  of  thought,  there  are  cer- 
tain great  definite  statements  which  stand  preeminent.  Certain 
great  conceptions  of  justice,  of  purity,  of  truth,  of  government,  of 
responsibility,  cohere  round  about  the  notion  of  God.  These  are 
not  tangible  except  by  augmentation,  or  recombination,  but  their 
essential  nature  remains  the  same.  I  would  not  have  you  sujDpose 
that  I  think  God  is,  as  it  were,  a  vast  changing  nebula,  never  like 
himself.  The  great  Unes  and  proportions  of  the  divine  Being  doubtless 
are  the  same ;  but  our  gi'owth  in  the  knowledge  of  God  is  changing 
all  the  time.  One  evidence  that  we  have  a  true  conception  of  God 
is,  that  it  is  growing. 

Why,  the  whip  that  stood  before  my  door  has  become  a  bush ; 
and  the  bush  has  become  a  large  shrub ;  and  the  shrub  is  mounting 
up  into  a  tree ;  and  the  tree  shall  yet  spread  its  branches  wide  abroad. 
And  that  little  germ  which  first  came  up,  and  that  vast  tree,  are  the 
same,  although  they  have  difi"ered  every  year  more  and  more  by 
development  and  growth.  And  so  does  our  conception  of  God  grow 
abroad,  multiplying  its  branches,  and  subdividing  them  into  infinite 
twigs  ;  but  they  all  cohere  in  the  unity  of  the  original  idea  or  con- 
ception. 

Growth  does  not  imply  the  abandonment  of  our  former  notions, 
then.  It  is  simply  the  unfolding,  in  a  line  or  direction,  more,  not 
less,  and  diflfering,  not  by  rejecting  one  element  and  inserting  an- 
other, but  by  making  each  element  that  was  true  yesterday  more 
true  to-day,  by  fullness,  variety,  and  application  in  all  directions. 
And  this  variety,  renewing  multiplicity  and  intensity  of  conception, 
is  of  more  benefit  to  man  than  are  selectness  and  definiteness  of  state- 
ment. 

Every  doctrine  should  have  an  exhalation,  an  ideal,  as  well  as  a 
core  and  a  centre.  When  men  say  that  we  must  holdfast  the  form, 
of  sound  loords,  I  say  so  too  ;  but  while  I  holdfast  the  form  of  sound 
words,  I  do  not  propose  thereby  to  rule  and  regulate  my  growing 
thought  of  God  so  that  those  sound  words  shall  mean  always  to 
me  no  more  than  they  meant  at  the  beginning. 

A  little  child  holds  these  words,  Z^ove  your  countrT/,  which  his 
mother  teaches  him  when  she  teaches  him  to  love  God.  Our  Father 
in  heaven,  our  father  on  earth,  and  our  fatherland,  are  the  three 
sources  of  manhood,  and  the  mother-lip  should  twine  these  three 
influences  together ;  but  when  the  child  is  a  child,  and  thinks  of  its 
fatherland,  it  is  no  bigger  to  him  than  his  father's  door-yard.  The 
impulse,  however,  is  pure  and  true.  And  when  the  child  is  ten 
years  of  age,  and  begins  to  read  the  history  of  wars  and  the  his- 
tory of  this  country,  then  there  are  added  so  many  other  elements 


104      GBOWTE  m   THE  KNOWLEDGE   OF  GOD. 

tliat  fatlierlancl  begins  to  stand  out  to  liim  broader,  and  deeper,  and 
more  beautiful.  The  impulse  is  the  same  ;  patriotism  is  the  same  ; 
but  how  much  richer  it  has  become !  And  when  he  comes  to  man- 
hood, and  enters  upon  his  duties  as  a  citizen,  the  idea  is  still  larger, 
although  it  is  identical. 

And  when,  as  a  patient  statesman,  he  has  borne  the  toil  and 
burden  and  heat  of  the  day,  and  is  ripe,  at  sixty  or  seventy  or  eighty 
years  of  age,  how  much  richer  and  broader  is  the  thought  of  his 
fatherland,  and  how  much  larger  is  life  now  interpreted  by  patriotism 
and  citizenship  than  when  he  first  began !  And  as  it  is  with  one's 
country,  so  it  is  with  our  heavenly  land. 

These  differences  of  conception  are  not  antagonisms ;  and  therefore 
they  do  not  prevent  men  from  cohering  together.  That  which  you 
see  most  in  God  I  am  not  bound  to  beat* down  because  I  see  another 
quality  more  than  you  see  it,  and  do  not  see  the  one  that  you  see  as 
much  as  you  see  it.  Men  are  the  complements  of  each  other.  Some 
men  inter^^ret  God  through  beauty.  They  are  my  brothers,  though 
I  may  be  deficient  in  interpreting  the  divine  nature  through  this 
quality.  I  am  your  brother,  though  I  may  not  gain  the  same  con- 
ception of  God  that  yoii  do.  One  reads  one  side,  and  another  reads 
another  side  ;  but  together  they  fail  to  read  the  whole.  No  one  man 
has  such  rich  endowment,  such  amplitude  of  susceptibility,  and  such 
vital  j)ower,  that  he  can  read  the  whole,  and  interpret  the  whole.  It 
is  only  the  voice  of  mankind  that  is  competent  to  j^ronounce  the 
nature  of  God,  and  not  the  voice  of  a  single  man. 

One  stands  in  Milan  Cathedral,  iinder  the  nave,  and  looks  up  into 
those  mysterious  depths,  until  it  seems  as  though  he  would  exhale 
and  fly  into  space.  There,  in  the  brooding  darkness,  the  feeling  of 
reverence  weighs  upon  his  very  soul.  And  the  Milan  Cathedral  to 
him  is  that  which  it  seems  to  be  when  the  low-lying  sun  has  shot 
through  the  window,  and  kindled  the  whole  interior. 

At  the  very  same  moment  there  stands  upon  the  roof  another 
man,  and  about  him  are  those  three  thousand  statues  carved  and 
standing  in  their  several  niches  and  pinnacles ;  and  every  thing  looks 
like  the  bristling  frost-work  in  a  forest  of  icicles ;  and  far  above  and 
far  on  every  side  swell  the  lines  of  beauty.  How  different  is  his 
conception  from  that  of  the  man  who  stands  in  the  nave  below  ! 

But,  at  the  same  time,  a  man  stands  outside  looking  at  the  cathe- 
dral's fretted  front  and  its  wondrous  beauty  and  diversity ;  while 
a  fellow- companion  and  traveler  is  on  the  other  side  looking  also  at 
the  exterior. 

Here  are  four  men — one  before  the  structure,  one  behind  it, 
one  on  the  roof,  and  one  in  the  interior ;  and  each  of  them,  as  he 
gives  his  account  of  the  Milan  Cathedral,  speaks  of  that  which  made 


GROWTH  IN   TEE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  GOD.  105 

tlie  strongest  impression  upon  his  mind,  and  the  most  carried  him 
away.  But  it  takes  the  concurrent  report  of  these  four  men  to  re- 
present that  vast  work  of  architecture. 

Is  it  so  with  a  man-built  cathedral  ?  and  shall  it  not  be  so  with 
the  mighty  God  who  is  from  eternity  to  eternity  ?  Is  there  any 
man  that  can  take  the  reed  of  his  understanding  and  lay  it  along  the 
line  of  God's  latitude  and  longitude  as  if  he  were  measurable  as  a  city  ? 
Is  there  any  man  who  can  cast  his  plummet  into  the  depths  of  the 
Infinite,  and  say,  "I  have  sounded  God  to  the  bottom"?  Is  there 
any  man  that  has  an  imagination  by  which  he  can  fly  so  high  that 
he  can  say,  "  I  have  reached  the  point  above  which  God  is  not  "  ?  Is 
there  any  man  who  "  by  searching  can  find  out  God  ?  Canst  thou 
find  out  the  Almighty  unto  perfection  "  ?  Each  man  learns  a  little, 
and  learns  that  which  he  is  most  susceptible  of  learning.  Each 
man  has  that  conception  of  God  which  he  is  capable  of  receiving. 
This  is  added  to  the  common  stock.  And  it  is  these  concurrent 
difierences,  these  harmonious  separations,  that  make  the  symphony 
of  knowledge.  We  do  not  want  unison :  we  want  harmony.  Harmony 
is  made  by  diiferent  parts,  and  not  by  the  repetition  of  the  same 
sounds  and  tones. 

And  if  at  death  we  lose  all  these  imperfect  conceptions,  they  are 
not  therefore  to  be  despised ;  for  we  shall  gain  them  again  in  a  more 
glorious  state.  Was  not  your  childhood  good  for  anything  to  you  ? 
Do  you  remember  what  you  thought  of  when  you  were  a  boy  ?  I 
do.  When  the  old  base  drum  went  boom,  boom,  booming,  on  the 
distant  village  green,  I  stood,  (imprisoned  by  the  picket  fence,  not 
daring  to  go  out  for  fear  of  the  rod,)  and  tears  ran  down  my  cheeks, 
I  did  not  know  why,  and  vague  pictures  presented  themselves  to 
my  mind,  and  the  air  was  full  of  noises  swelling  about  me.  And  I 
remember  how  I  felt  when  once  in  a  while  I  saw  the  hash  of  the  red 
uniform.  Xow  I  have  become  a  man,  and  put  away  childish  things, 
and  I  will  not  run  to  the  door  though  ten  thousand  men  are  going 
by  in  uniform  and  procession.  And  yet,  I  do  not  count  my  child- 
hood experience  as  having  been  contemptible  by  any  manner  of 
means.  I  recollect  very  well  sitting  on  the  steps  of  the  kitchen 
door,  (when  father  and  mother  were  gone  to  meeting  and  the  girls 
had  gone  out  on  a  visit,)  and  listening  to  the  frogs,  and  crying,  I 
knew  not  why,  until  the  wished-for  people  were  at  home  again  ;  and 
I  had  some  heart-sense  of  the  loves  and  wants  of  the  household. 
But  what  was  that  compared  with  the  educated  idea  of  the  rich 
interblendings  and  gradations  and  variations  of  the  domestic  loves 
that  have  come  upon  the  pallet  of  my  heart  since  that  time?  And 
yet,  does  the  Avealth  of  this  conception  cast  out  and  despise  that 
early  experience? 


106      GROWTH  IN  THE  KNOWLEDGE  OF  GOD. 

The  apostle  says,  "  Now  we  see  through  a  glass  darkly,  then  face 
to  face."     "  When  I  was  a  child,  I  spake  as  a  child,  I  understood  as 
a  child,  I  thought  as  a  child ;  but  when  I  became  a  man,  I  put  away 
childish  things."     Speaking  of  the  wliole  round  of  men's  experience 
in  this  estate,  he  says,  "  As  long  as  you  live  in  this  world  you  will 
see  the  brightest  truths  and  the  clearest  outlines  as  through  a  glass 
darkly."      But  does  that  put  what  you  do  know  to  shame  ?     No ; 
it  is  real  knowledge,  as  much  as  any.     It  is  fragmentary,  but  it  is  the 
beginning  of  knowledge.   It  is  only  a  part.     It  is  seen,  not  too  much, 
but  too  dimly.     And  when  you  die,  and  go  to  heaven,  let  no  man  say, 
"Your  earthly  knowledge  is  all   perished."     No;    we  shall  trace 
again  the  lines  which  here  we  traced  but  feebly.     There  will  glow 
the  everlasting  light ;    aiul  all  the  impressions  which  here  were  but 
seminal,  there  will  be  in  full  blosom  and  fruit.     And  all  those  truths 
which  we  saw,  and  saw  in  the  twilight — shall  we  not  see  them  yet 
more  gloriously,  because  tlie  twilight  is  swallowed  up  in  everlasting 
day  ?    We  shall  not  have  occasion  to  despise  our  earthly  thoughts  and 
yearnings,  and  knowledges  and  longings,  but  we  shall  improve  them, 
and  with  them  and  beyond  them  go  on  forever  and  forever  with  the 
Lord. 

How  blessed  it  is  to  begin  this  life  upon  earth  !  How  poor  are 
they  who  are  without  God  and  without  hope  in  this  world  !  They 
are  the  richest  men  who  are  laying  up  the  brightest,  the  clearest, 
and  the  most  helpful  and  noble  conceptions  of  God.  If  you  would 
increase  treasure,  "  grow  in  grace  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord 
and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ."  That  way  lies  manhood.  That  way  lies 
joy.    That  way  lies  everlasting  blessedness. 


PRAYER    BEFORE    THE    SERMON. 

O  Lord  our  God,  in  all  the  earth  there  is  no  name  like  thy  name.  In  all  the  earth  there  is  no 
heart  like  thine.  There  is  uo  love  and  no  welcome  such  as  thou  dost  grant.  Not  the  earth  itself 
is  so  open  to  our  footsteps,  to  go  every  whither,  as  thou  art  to  our  hearts'  desire  ;  for  we  are 
invited  to  come  back,  to  enter  in,  and  to  dwell  in  thee.  Or,  if  we  be  weak,  and  unable  to  find 
thee,  thou  dost  seek  and  save  us.  Nor,  if  v,-c  be  humble,  though  we  be  cast  into  the  extremity  of 
life,  wilt  thou  disdain  us.  With  the  humble  and  the  contrite  thou  dost  delight  to  dweU.  We 
rejoice  that  thou  art  thus  welcoming  to  thee  those  that  can  rise  and  find  thee,  helping  their 
infirmity.  And  we  rejoice  that  thou  dost  not  alone  accept  those  who  come,  but  that  thou  art 
abroad  by  thy  Word  and  by  thy  Spirit,  awaking  those  that  sleep,  giving  life  to  those  that  are 
dead,  healing  those  that  are  sick,  and  by  all  influen«;es  drawing  souls  back  to  God,  their  Source 
and  their  Head. 

We  give  thanks  to  thee  for  all  thy  mercies  to  ns  in  days  gone  by.  How  many  there  are  we 
can  not  tell.  More  than  the  leaves  in  summer,  more  than  the  stars  at  night,  shining  in  our  dark- 
ness they  have  illumined  our  way,  they  have  filled  us  with  comfort  and  with  blessedness,  and  thy 
thoughts  are  yet  unfulfilled. 

AU  the  purposes  of  thy  soul  are  fruitful  of  good  to  us.  What  time  we  are  able  to  accept 
it,  thou  art  waiting  for  us  to  be  loved.    Thou  art  waiting  for  us  to  be  able  to  appreciate  and  to 


GROWTH  m   THE  KNOWLEDGE   OF  GOD.  107 

enter  into  the  fellowship  and  fruition  of  thy  nature.  As  we  wait  for  our  children,  taking  care 
of  them  until  they  come  up  to  us,  so  art  thou  waiting  for  us,  longing  to  blesa  in  over-measure, 
while  doing  exceeding  abundantly  more  thin  we  asli  or  think.  And  when  at  last,  in  the  other 
and  better  land,  our  eyes  are  cleahsed,  and  we  have  come  to  the  measure  of  the  stature  of 
perfect  men  in  Christ  Jesus,  we  shall  see  how,  on  every  side,  unappreciated  good,  unappropriated 
mercies  lay  strewn  thick  as  blossoms  in  the  summer.  We  rejoice  in  this  fullness  of  thy  nature, 
in  this  royal  generosity,  in  this  outflowing,  overpouring  abundance  of  thy  thoughts  and  thy 
deeds  of  goodness.  What  are  we,  that  we  should  withstand  thy  nature  ?  What  are  our  fears,  that 
they  should  fend  ofl'  these  precious  promises  ?  What  is  guilt,  what  is  remorse,  and  what  are  all 
our  humiliations  and  self-renunciations,  that  they  should  take  us  away  from  thee,  when  it  is  be- 
cause we  arc  weak  that  thou  dost  desire  us  to  come,  and  because  we  are  wicked  that  thou  dost 
desire  to  forgive  us,  and  to  establish  us  again  in  righteousness  ?  Why  should  we  keep  away  from 
thee  by  reason  of  sickness,  when  it  is  thine  office  to  be  Physician  to  our  souls  ?  Why,  because  we 
are  selfish  and  empty  of  love,  should  we  not  come  to  the  summer  of  love  ? 

O  our  Father !  we  beseech  of  thee  that  we  may  cease  to  look  upon  ourselves  for  reasons 
either  of  dissuasion  or  of  persuasion.  May  we  look  upon  our  God.  May  we  be  won  by  thy  good- 
ness, by  thy  gentleness,  by  thy  loving  mercy  to  us.  And,  we  pray  thee,  as  thou  dost  accept  most 
generously  and  abundantly  the  feeblest  endeavor,  the  smallest  advances,  in  the  fewest  things 
even ;  as  thou  art  he  that  will  not  break  the  bruised  reed  nor  quench  the  smoking  flax  until 
thou  dost  bring  forth  judgment  unto  victory,  we  pray  thee  that  they  who  are  consciously 
environed  on  every  side,  and  who  are  yet  striving  for  some  things  good,  may  have  courage 
given  them,  and  hope,  not  as  good,  but  because  God  is  merciful  and  gracious.  And  may  thy 
goodness  in  forgiving  and  bearing  with  them  make  them  ashamed  of  their  ingi-atitude.  May  it 
make  them  ashamed  of  the  evidences  whicti  they  heap  up  before  thee  of  their  indifi'erence  and 
disobedience,  of  their  godless  lives  and  conversation.  May  we  all  be  ashamed.  Grant  us  not  that 
shame  whicli  takes  us  from  thee,  but  that  shame  which  brings  us  to  thee. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  us  from  day  to  day,  out  of  our  experience  of  thee, 
more  and  more  to  grow  in  grace ;  and,  growing  in  grace,  may  we  grow  in  the  knowledge  of  our 
Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ. 

And  we  pray  thee,  grant  thy  blessing  especially  upon  all  that  are  gathered  together  in  this 
place  to-day.  May  those  who  have  come  from  darkness,  and  sadness,  and  who  are  weary  and  heavy- 
laden,  find  indeed  that  they  have  come  to  the  right  place.  O  thou  that  hast  made  thy  yoke  easy 
and  thy  burden  light,  grant,  we  pray  thee,  to  fulfill  to  them  to-day  the  promise  of  strength,  that 
as  their  day  is  their  strength  shaU  be.  Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  they  may  be  glad  that  there  is 
one  place  where  burdens,  touched  of  God,  may  roU  away ;  where  the  low-lying  clouds  are  pierced 
by  faith ;  where  men  may  see  beyond  their  hovel,  and  beyond  their  poverty,  and  beyond  their 
cares  and  tearful  days,  the  bright  and  unclouded  future. 

Help  those  that  can  find  nothing  to  comfort  them  in  this  world  to  see  to-day  how  great  is  the 
store  and  bounty  of  that  goodness  which  is  laid  up  for  them  in  heaven.  And  we  beseech  of  thee 
that  those  who  are  tried  with  pains,  with  burdens,  with  daily  cares,  who  are  weary  exceedingly, 
who  have  seemed  to  lose  the  ambition  of  life,  for  whom  there  is  nothing  but  the  rude  and  daily 
rougher  path  to  the  grave,  who  have  no  more  hope,  who  have  no  longer  the  bright  expectations 
of  youth,  and  all  of  whose  visions  are  as  a  shattered  mirror— we  beseech  of  thee  that  they  may 
remember  and  know  that  there  is  a  rest  which  remaineth,  for  the  people  of  God.  Friends  depart, 
health  goes,  treasures  fly  away,  honor  is  as  a  bubble,  and  life  itself  grows  dim  as  the  autumnal 
forests  which  shed  the  glory  of  their  leaves  ;  all  things  are  passing  ;  but  there  remaineth  a  rest 
that  no  storm  can  disturb,  that  nothing  can  dissipate  or  take  away.  Oh  I  that  the  comfort  and 
foresight  of  this  might  cheer  those  whose  way  of  life  is  sad ! 

We  beseech  of  thee,  O  Lord !  if  there  bo  those  here  that  mourn  over  privileges  lost,  oppor- 
tunities gone — who  see  themselves  grown  up  to  man's  estate  uncultured  and  undeveloped — and 
who  are  fUled  at  times  with  anguish  that  they  should  bear  such  souls,  which  might  have  been 
beautiful— we  beseech  of  thee  that  they  by  faith  Ln  the  love  of  Christ  may  feel  that  they  shall 
grow  again.  In  a  fairer  clime,  transplanted  into  the  garden  of  the  Lord,  and  under  the  sweet 
dew  of  heavenly  influence,  they  yet  shall  know  beauty  who  are  not  comely  now ;  and  they  shall 
come  to  fruit  who  have  born(j  nothing  here ;  and  may  they  look  forward  to  find  in  the  land 
that  is  to  come,  all  that  they  have  missed  in  the  land  that  now  is. 

We  beseech  of  thee,  O  Lord  our  God  !  that  thou  wilt  bless  those  who  are  consciously  stained 
with  sin,  and  whose  hearts  are  the  empire  of  guilt.  All  those  who  have  been  companions  of  remorse, 
who  rise  up  and  lie  down  with  fear  as  their  twin  companion— oh  !  grant  to  them  such  a  sense  of 
thy  forgiving  love,  and  so  cleanse  their  hearts,  their  affections,  their  imaginations,  and  their  faith, 
that,  though  they  are  sinful,  they  may  at  the  cross  find  all  their  burdens  dropping  and  all  their 
fears  flying.  There,  at  the  cross,  where  the  world  has  been  comforted  through  so  many  weary 
ages,  may  they  find  peace. 


108      GROWTH  m   THE  KNOWLEDGE   OF  GOD. 

"We  ask  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  parents  who  are  carrying  their  little  ones  in  their  arms, 
with  weakness  of  body,  and  with  faintness  of  heart,  by  reason  of  inexperience,  in  a  sense  of 
the  greatness  of  the  way  in  which  their  children  must  travel.  And  as  they  look  upon  the 
world,  and  see  the  snares  and  temptations  which  beset  those  little  ones,  O  Lord  God  !  hear  their 
prayer.  Bless  their  children,  and  bless  them.  Teach  them  how  to  teach  their  little  ones,  and  to 
bring  them  up  in  the  way  in  which  they  should  go,  that  when  they  are  old  they  may  not  depart 
from  it. 

We  pray  that  thou  wilt  grant  a  blessing  to  rest  upon  all  those  who  are  teachers  in  our  Sun- 
day-schools and  in  our  Bible-classes,  and  all  those  who  go  forth  on  the  Lord's  day,  or  through  the 
week,  to  carry  the  tidings  of  salvation  to  the  outcast  or  neglected. 

Remember  all  who  are  seeking,  in  the  household  or  in  their  several  avocations  of  life,  to  be 
witnesses  for  Christ,  by  word  or  by  deed.  And  we  pray  that  thou  wUt  grant  that  their  faith  may 
be  increased,  and  that  they  may  see,  from  day  to  day,  that  it  is  not  in  vain  that  they  beUeve  in 
the  Lord. 

Bless,  we  pray  thee,  all  that  would  desire  to  be  remembered  here.  Accept  the  thanksgiving 
of  grateful  hearts.  Accept  the  silent  thoughts  of  consecration  that  would  come  up.  Accept  the 
sighs  and  tears  of  those  that  weep.  Accept  the  yearnings  of  absent  ones  whose  thoughts  are  fly- 
ing hitherward  to-day.  And  grant  that  if  our  songs  may  not  roll  through  the  wide  space  and 
reach  their  ears,  we  may  yet  meet  them,  as  they  and  we  stand  by  faith  in  the  presence  of  God. 

Jesus,  spread  abroad  thine  hands  upon  thy  great  host  to-day,  and  say  to  aU  thy  people,  Peace 
be  with  you.  And  grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  the  Gospel  may  have  free  course  to  run  and  be  glo- 
rified in  this  land.  Build  up  the  waste  places.  Grant  that  there  may  be  found  means  and  men 
for  the  education  of  the  ignorant.  Establish  in  the  ways  of  justice  this  great  people.  Purify 
our  laws.  Cleanse  our  institutions.  Give  us  pure  and  upright  magistrates.  And  grant  that 
this  whole  nation,  taught  of  God,  may  shine  in  the  beauty  of  a  true  religion.  Let  thy  kingdom 
come  everywhere,  and  let  the  earth  be  flUed  with  thy  glory. 

These  things  we  ask  for  Christ's  sake,    Amen, 


VIII. 

CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL  THINGS. 


CONTENTMENT    IN    ALL    THINGS 

SUNDAY  MORNING,   NOVEMBER   8,   1868. 


"I  HAVE  learned,  in  whatsoever  state  I  am,  tlierewith  to  be  content.  I 
know  both  how  to  be  abased,  and  I  know  how  to  abound :  everywhere  and  in  all 
things  I  am  instructed  both  to  be  full  and  to  be  hungry,  both  to,  abound  and  to 
Euflfer  need." — Phil.  iv.  11, 13. 


There  was  never  a  puiDil  that  graduated  at  any  university  ■with 
such  a  dijjloma  as  that.  There  never  Avas  jDenned  such  a  I'ecord  of 
any  attainment,  whether  of  the  most  eminent  scholarship,  or  whether 
of  genius  or  taste.  Nowhere  has  there  ever  been  set  forth  such  a 
picture  of  the  result  of  training  and  education. 

There  is  hidden  in  the  human  soul  an  unsuspected  power  by  which 
it  is  able  to  control  all  the  circumstances  of  its  condition  to  the  pur- 
poses both  of  i^rofit  and  of  pleasure.  Man  is  not  superior  to  his  cir- 
cumstances as  a  matter  of  fact ;  but  man  is  created  with  plenary 
power  to  be  superior  to  his  circumstances.  A  man  is  educated  just 
in  the  proportion  in  which  by  his  soul-power  he  controls  the  condi- 
tions of  his  life  ;  and  a  man  is  uneducated  just  in  the  proportion  in 
which  he  is  controlled  by  his  conditions,  and  his  soul  is  what  his  cir- 
cumstances will  let  it  be.  Only  single  jjersons,  hitherto,  have  dis- 
closed this  power  in  any  eminent  degree.  The  race  live  in  the  lower 
moods  of  the  mind,  partake  of  its  feebleness,  and  are  subject  to  the 
bondages  which  belong  to  it.  The  nearer  you  get  to  material  devel- 
opment, the  nearer  you  get  to  absolute  physical  law ;  and  that  is 
bondage.  The  further  you  get  from  matter,  and  the  more  you  live 
by  those  powers  that  are  most  ethereal,  the  further  are  you  from 
material  law,  and  the  larger  is  your  liberty.  The  lower  races  not  only, 
but  the  great  mass  of  all  races  of  men,  always  live  in  bondage  to 
physical  law  and  to  material  and  social  conditions.  The  pain  or 
pleasure  of  the  human  mind  is  dependent  i;pon  external  conditions  to 

Lesson;  Philipplans  iii.    Htmns  (Plymouth  Collection) :  Nos.  551,  ^49,  "  Shining  Shore," 


110  CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    TEINQ8. 

such  a  degree  that  one  means  of  readnng  men,  even  with  moral 
truth,  is  to  control  their  physical  wants.  On  this  account  it  is  that 
among  degraded  men  simple  cleanliness,  mere  regularity  of  industry, 
good  air,  and  comfortable  living,  produce  moral  results — at  the  bot- 
tom of  society  they  do ;  they  do  not  at  the  top.  It  is  only  in  lower 
levels  of  life  that  a  loaf  of  bread  is  a  gospel. 

As  we  ascend  on  the  scale  to  the  point  Avhere  men  are  educated 
and  refined,  men  are  far  less  subject  to  physical  elements,  and  there- 
fore far  less  affected  by  them  in  their  moral  relations.  There  is 
in  all  this  a  disclosure  of  the  fact  that  the  higher  elements  of  the 
mind  have  a  power  very  much  greater  not  only,  but  very  different, 
from  the  power  exercised  by  the  lower  faculties. 

There  is  yet  a  step  beyond.  This  power,  for  the  most  j^art,  of 
man's  higher  nature,  is  hidden.  It  is  not  manifested  in  the  ordinary 
action  of  the  tnind.  It  only  becomes  apparent  under  certain  high 
excitements. 

All  men  are  conscious  of  the  opening  up  in  some  of  their  faculties 
of  great  powers  which  do  not  belong  to  their  ordinary  exercises. 
For  example,  there  are  few  of  you  who  have  not  known  what  swell 
and  energy  there  is  in  anger,  and  how  much  more  every  j^art  of  a 
man's  nature  seems  to  be  intensified  under  its  influence.  A  man  in 
the  ordinary  drawl  of  a  good-natured  life  seems  half  the  time  not  a 
man;  but  when  he  is  roused  up  with  indignation  that  touches  him  to 
the  very  bottom,  he  feels  as  though  he  had  in  himself  the  being  of  at 
least  twenty  men.  Such  is  the  energizing  power  of  even  so  low  a 
passion  as  anger. 

The  power  of  fear  is  also  well  known — its  sickening  panics,  the 
irresistibleness  with  which  it  controls  the  whole  mind.  And  so  of 
the  exhilaration  of  hope  and  of  cheerfulness.  When  some  surprising 
good  news  breaks  upon  us,  how  we  are  lifted  up  above  achings,  above 
complainings!  There  are  hours  when  men  feel  that  all  the  world 
could  not  hurt  them,  so  happy  are  they,  so  blessed  are  they. 

These  are  single  instances  of  what  wonderful  power  there  is  hid- 
den in  faculties  which  does  not  ordinarily  manifest  itself,  but  which 
does  come  out  once  in  a  while,  showing  that  it  is  there;  showing 
that  when  developed  it  has  a  scope  and  a  force  that  does  not  belong 
to  its  ordinary  development. 

Men  are  conscious  that  in  their  higher  moods  the  faculties  excite 
them  deeply,  and  open  up  ranges  of  power,  and  create  experiences 
which  they  would  never  have  suspected,  judging  from  the  average 
experience  of  ordinary  life. 

Men  seek  this  exhilaration.  It  may  seem  very  strange  to  say  that 
dissipation  itself,  and  the  revelries  of  life,  wild  and  corrupt,  are  only 
blind  and  stupid  reachings  after  this  higher  life ;  but  it  is  so.     Men 


CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS.  Ill 

are  conscious  that  tliere  is  more  in  them  tlian  is  brought  out  by  ordi- 
nary things ;  and  they  are  .all  the  time  seeking  in  a  blind,  and  crude, 
and  often  mischievous  way,  to  touch  that  liidden  inward  powci',  and 
bring  it  out.  They  seek,  it  may  be  wrongly,  to  bring  out  the  lower 
power  in  its  inflammation,  or  they  may  seek  to  bring  it  out  by  wrong 
agencies.  At  any  rate,  they  bring  it  out  in  unregulated  Avays.  But 
the  strife  after  it  shows  that  there  is  in  man  this  mysterious,  hidden, 
inward  jDOwer,  greater  than  that  which  belongs  to  common  every  day 
life. 

This  is  the  motive  of  the  chase.  This  is  the  motive  of  war.  A 
man  that  is  in  the  tide  of  war,  especially  an  old  chief,  has  a  conscious- 
ness of  manhood  a  thousand-fold  more  than  would  belong  to  the  dull- 
ness of  insipid  peace.  It  is  not  cruelty  that  leads  men  to  love  war  ; 
it  is  excitement.  It  is  not  merely  excitement;  it  is  the  excitement 
that  discloses  to  them  dojiths  of  jiower  and  averages  of  manhood  far 
more  than  belong  to  lower  levels.  I  can  understand  perfectly  well 
how  old  warriors  despised  men  of  peace  as  ignoble,  because  when 
they  tried  peace  they  were  stupid,  and  when  they  tried  war  they 
were  bound  up  into  a  manhood  which,  though  it  was  irregular  and 
low  in  its  moral  character,  was  nevertheless  full  of  sensations  and 
experiences  of  social  powers  and  dignities  that  did  not  belong  to 
ordinary  life. 

So  men  seek  dissipation ;  the  stimulus  of  opium  ;  of  tobacco,  in 
certain  stages  of  it ;  of  alcoholic  drinks.  In  all  ways  they  seek  to 
get  more  of  life  out  of  themselves.  They  are  feeling,  in  this  poison- 
ous and  irregular  way,  after  the  secret  fountain  of  power  which  lies 
hidden  in  every  man.  It  is  said  that  modern  society  lives  on  excite- 
ment ;  it  is  made  a  criticism.  But  the  civilization  and  the  power  of 
a  people  are  measured  by  the  amount  of  excitement  which  they  gene- 
rate. An  individual  or  a  community  that  can  generate  but  little  is 
low  down  on  the  scale — not  far  from  a  savage  state ;  and  communi- 
ties that  can  generate  the  most  excitement,  and  stand  the  most,  are 
highest  on  the  scale.  It  should  rather  be  said  that  mankind  have  a 
confused  consciousness  of  the  stores  of  measurable  excitement  within 
themselves,  and  that  they  seek  to  develop  it  by  irregular  and  waste- 
ful methods.  But  these  very  irregularities  point  to  a  great  moral 
truth  which  lies  folded  up  in  man,  of  a  j^ower  which,  Avhen  devel- 
oped, immeasurably  augments  his  being,  and  makes  him  thoroughly 
the  master  of  his  hours,  and  of  his  place,  and  of  his  circumstances. 
If  he  could  wear  it  all  the  time,  he  would  always  be  so ;  and  he  is  so 
as  long  as  he  wears  it.  Althouojh  we  have  learned  this  from  the 
experience  of  our  lower  faculties,  yet  they  are  the  least  susceptible  to 
this  disclosure  of  hidden  power.  They  quickest  reach  the  bound  of 
resource. 


112  CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS. 

As  you  rise  from  the  lower  nature  of  man  to  his  higher  moral 
nature,  the  elasticity  is  greater.  The  possibility  of  disclosing  a 
hidden  mysterious  power  augments  in  proportion  as  you  go  up  from 
the  animal  toward  the  moral  sentiments  of  man.  There  are  nowhere 
such  inexhaustible  resources  of  excitement,  that  are  wholesome  in 
their  kind,  enduring  without  wasting  men,  as  in  the  higlier  moral 
sentiments.  Basilar  excitements  grind  and  wear  out ;  but  the  excite- 
ments of  the  higher  nature  of  a  man  are  nutritious.  While  they  use 
up  a  great  deal,  they  create  a  great  deal ;  and  a  man  can  live,  I 
believe,  forty  years,  and  never  be  out  from  under  great  excitement, 
and  yet  sleep  well,  and  think  well,  and  digest  well,  and  be  wholly 
healthy.  Nay,  I  believe  it  is  in  the  power  of  these  very  high  excite- 
ments of  the  moral  nature  to  expel  disease,  and  that  there  is  medi- 
cine in  them  as  well  as  food.  The  lower  excitements  are  rasping 
and  exhausting ;  but  the  higher  excitements — hope,  faith,  love,  hero- 
ism— these  are  nourishing,  sustaining,  and  vitalizing. 

Paul  was  a  remarkable  example  of  these  facts — for  it  is  time  for 
us  to  be  coming  back  to  our  text !  He  was  a  creature  capable  of 
prodigious  exaltations.  Divine  Providence  did  not  make  a  mistake 
when  it  selected  Paul.  He  was  the  very  man  for  his  place.  He  was 
called,  literally,  from  his  birth,  to  the  work  which  he  performed.  He 
was  organized  to  be  what  he  was.  You  will  recollect  how  he  always 
was  tending  in  that  direction.  In  other  words,  as  when  God  selects 
a  prophet,  he  selects  a  man  whose  nature  jDrepares  him  to  be  a 
prophet ;  as  when  God  selects  a  preacher,  he  selects  a  man  who  is 
prepared  beforehand  to  be  a  jDreacher ;  as  when  God  wants  a  poet, 
he  makes  a  John  Milton,  and  then  John  Milton-  sings;  as  men  are 
made  when  they  are  born,  and  afterward  in  providence  are  called 
again ;  so  Paul  was  fitted  originally  for  his  mission.  He  had  the 
genius  and  nature  which  pre^^ared  him  to  develop  this  latent,  mys- 
terious moral  j^ower,  and  show  the  consequences  of  it.  You  recollect 
how,  when  he  was  first  going  along  the  road  under  tremendously 
excited  feeling,  the  light  broke  upon  him,  and  the  Voice  spoke  to  him, 
and  he  fell  down,  and  saw  and  heard  what  none  of  the  others  did 
that  were  with  him.  They  felt  that  there  was  a  commotion;  but  he, 
and  only  he,  had  a  nature  that  entered  into  the  secret  meaning  of  it, 
and  was  carried  up  by  it. 

Do  you  recollect  how  he  speaks  of  dreams  and  visions  that  were 
vouchsafed  to  him  ?  how  he  tells  of  the  man  that  appeared  in  his  sleep 
to  him,  and  said,  "  Come  over  into  Macedonia,  and  help  us"  ?  Do  you 
recollect  that  memorable  instance  which  he  specifies  regarding  him- 
self of  a  certain  man  (he  knew  not  whether  in  the  body  or  out  of  the 
body)  who  had  been  in  a  state  of  darkness  hitherto,  but  who  was 
caught  up  into  the  seventh  heaven,  and  who  heard  things  which  it 


CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS.  113 

was  "  unlawful,"  (it  is  translated,)  imjyossihle  to  utter?  He  was  a 
man  that  was  all  the  time  on  tlie  line  that  divided  the  material  and  the 
immaterial.  So  that  by  this  constitutional  tendency,  you  say,  by  natu- 
ral causes,  you  say,  (and  so  I  say ;  for  natural  causes  are  divine  causes,) 
he  was  adajjted,  he  was  foreordained,  to  develop  this  kind  of  latent 
power  which  belongs  to  the  human  soul,  and  to  every  human  soul — 
though  to  some  more  than  to  others.  His  writings  show  that  he,  by 
virtue  of  God's  dealing  with  such  a  temperament  and  constitution  as 
his,  carried  these  moral  sentiments  up  to  a  higher  point  than  ever 
before  or  ever  since.  The  philosophy  of  love,  as  revealed  in  these 
higher  moods — its  ramifications,  its  manifold  aj)plications  to  life,  its 
relations  to  thought,  to  liberty,  to  convictions,  to  duty,  to  personality, 
to  social  affinities,  to  weakness  or  wickedness  in  men,  to  full  man- 
hood— these  were  never  anywhere  else  so  set  forth  as  in  Paul's 
writings ;  nor  have  they  been  so  drawn  out  since.  With  all  the 
advantage  of  the  light  which  has  been  shed  upon  men,  we  come  back 
to  his  epistles  yet,  as  to  a  forest,  to  cut  our  timber  when  we  want 
love.  But  great  ao  has  been  the  power  manifested  since  the  appear- 
ance of  Christ  in  the  world,  the  developments  are  destined  to  be  still 
greater  in  a  coming  day. 

In  our  text  there  is  the  disclosure  of  one  range  of  results  of  living 
in  this  high  moral  state,  in  this  state  of  exhilaration — that  is,  this 
living  above  the  ioorlcl,  as  it  is  said.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  meaning 
now  in  such  a  phrase  as  that.  Almost  all  phrases  are  words  of  power 
when  they  start ;  but  they  get  worn  out.  And  so  things  that  meant 
much  when  they  began  to  be  used,  by  being  mouthed,  and  mouthed, 
and  mouthed,  get  so  smooth  that  they  slip  out  without  meaning 
any  thing. 

To  live  above  the  world,  when  you  consider  that  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  a  mystic,  mysterious,  normal  power  residing  in  the  nobler 
faculties  of  the  soul ;  to  live  above  the  world  in  the  sense  of  rising 
literally  above  all  the  conditions  of  materiality,  and  all  the  accidents^ 
thrustings,  and  forthputtings  of  society,  gives  a  meaning  again  to 
those  old  words,  living  above  the  vwrld. 

I.  The  Apostle  says,  "  I  have  learned  in  whatsoever  state  I  am 
therewith  to  be  content!'''  Well,  then,  all  I  have  to  say  about  it  is, 
that  it  was  a  very  poor  kind  of  learning — if  (do  not  interrupt  me  till 
I  say  the  whole) — if  by  content  you  mean  stupidity — for  that  is  Avhat 
some  folks  mean  by  it ;  if  by  content  you  mean  Avant  of  aspiration ; 
if  content  is  the  antithesis  of  enterprise.  If  Paul  meant  substantially 
this,  "I  consider  one  thing  just  as  good  as  another,  and  one  place 
as  good  as  another;  I  consider  poverty  as  good  as  riches;  I  consider 
that  every  man  who  is  born  a  slave  ought  to  be  perfectly  content  to 
remain  a  slave,  ought  not  to  have  any  swell  of  desire  in  him,  ought 


114:  CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS. 

not  to  want  to  be  any  more  than  that ;  or,  if  the  father  is  a  serf,  the 
son  ought  to  be  content  to  be  a  serf;  or,  if  a  man  is  born  in  low 
circumstances,  and  lives  among  ignoble  companions,  and,  waking 
up,  sees  men  above  him,  he  ought  not  to  want  to  go  up  higher" — if 
Paul  meant  that,  he  and  I  are  two.  But  he  did  not  mean  any  such 
thing.  He  and  I,  thei'efore  agree,  and  he  and  I  are  one  again.  He 
did  not  say,  "  I  would  as  lief  be  one  thing  as  another,  and  have  one 
thing  as  another:"  he  said,  "I  have  learned  to  be  content."  Why? 
"  Because  I  carry  that  with  me  which  makes  any  circumstances  what- 
soever to  me  blessed." 

Englishmen  are  laughed  at  because  they  travel  on  the  Continent 
in  such  a  way  that  they  carry  all  their  home  with  them — their 
servants ;  their  nurses ;  their  companions ;  all  their  sauces  and  spices ; 
all  their  wine;  all  their  horses  and  all  their  carriages — one,  two, 
three,  foui* — a  little  traveling  caravan.  And  when  they  camp  down 
in  a  poverty-stricken  village  at  the  foot  of  some  mountain,  they  say, 
*'  Well,  kt  us  be  contented ;  we  are  better  off  than  we  might  have 
been  if  we  had  had  nothing  but  herbs  and  rocks  and  such  like  things 
to  subsist  upon."  But  as  they  have  brought  with  them  all  that  they 
want,  why  should  they  not  be  contented  ? 

Now,  siippose  we  imitate  it  inwardly,  not  outwardly ;  suppose 
we  carry  in  ourselves  such  a  store  of  inspirations,  such  an  amplitude 
of  moral  life,  such  glorious  swells  of  disposition  as  shall  make  us 
superior  to  every  circumstance  in  which  we  are  placed ;  suppose 
every  man  shall  make  such  a  heaven  over  his  head  by  his  imagination, 
and  shall  swing  around  such  colors  over  the  earth  by  the  power  of  his 
soul,  that  wherever  he  goes  he  carries  with  him  all  that  he  wants  for 
any  situation,  why  should  he  not  be  content  in  it  ?  A  man  that  is 
big  enough  has  only  to  say,  "I  am  here,"  and  that  is  sufficient. 
Egotism  is  wrong  in  a  little  nature,  but  it  is  not  wrong  in  a  great 
nature.  The  recognition  of  conscience  and  benevolence ;  the  sense  of 
the  amplitude  of  individual  being;  the  consciousness  that  God 
made  every  man  to  be  a  commonwealth,  and  that  faculties  are 
states,  and  that  personal  identity  represents  empire,  and  that  there  is 
God  in  it  more  than  in  all  other  things — this  is  not  egotism.  Where 
a  man  is  living  so  near  to  God  as  to  be  under  the  stimulus  and  ex- 
citement of  the  divine  influence,  so  near  to  heaven  that  heavenly  in- 
spirations fall  upon  his  mind  and  kindle  divine  thoughts,  and  fancies, 
and  hopes,  and  joys,  and  shed  light  upon  the  soul,  and  pervade  the 
whole  being  with  power,  why  should  he  not  say,  easily,  "I  have 
learned  in  all  states  to  be  content "  ?  This  is  a  kind  of  content  that 
does  not  imply  indolence,  that  does  not  imply  obliteration  of  moral 
distinctions,  that  certainly  does  not  imply  a  want  of  enterprise  and 
aspiration,     It  is  merely  this  ;  I  have  learned  so  to  develop  the  forces 


C0NTENTME2^^T  IX  ALL    THINGS.  115 

that  God  gave  mo,  that  I  am  no  longer  dependent  for  my  happiness 
on  my  condition  and  my  circumstances;  that  is,  on  the  things  that 
stand  around  me — for  that  is  the  meaning  of  circumstances.  I  am 
dependent  upon  tliat  whicli  God  gives  me  within;  and  so  I  can  aflbrd 
to  be  content. 

II.  I  have  learned  in  all  things  to  be  content.  There  are  a  great 
many  men  who  have  learned  to  do  it  in  single  things.  The  mother 
says,  loving  her  child,  "  I  am  content" — the  real  born  mother — for  a 
mother  is  as  different  from  any  tiling  else  that  God  ever  thought  of 
as  can  possibly  be.  She  is  a  distinct  and  individual  creation.  I 
think  God  laughed  with  satisfaction  when  he  thought  oi  motliei\%Vidi 
framed  it  quick — so  rich,  so  deep,  so  divine,  so  full  of  soul-power  and 
beauty  was  the  conception  !  When  God  created  mother,  he  made 
her,  if  the  maternal  instincts  were  gratified,  to  be  supremely  happy 
and  blessed. 

When  I  was  a  little  boy  I  used  to  have  to  rock  the  cradle,  and  I 
can  not  remember  that  I  ever  liked  it ;  but  I  have  seen  mothers  that 
would  go  away  from  parties,  and  forsake  exhilarating  pleasures  and 
entertaining  friends,  that  they  might  be  where  the  child  was ;  and 
nothing  could  make  them  so  happy  as  to  get  back  to  the  nursery. 
That  was  the  gate  of  heaven  to  them,  and  there  they  Avere  contented, 
supremely  contented.  And  what  is  it  for  such  a  mother  to  say, 
"  I  have  learned  to  be  contented  ?"  Can  she  say,  "  I  have  learned  to 
be  contented  in  any  state  whatsoever  ?"  Oh  !  no  ;  all  she  can  say  is, 
"  I  have  learned  in  the  nursery  to  be  contented.  Give  me  my  chil- 
dren, and  what  do  I  want  more  ?  Give  me  my  children  and  I  am  su- 
premely blessed.      With  them  I  have  learned  to  be  content." 

We  see  this  illustrated  in  another  sphere.  There  is  a  gay, 
giddy  girl.  Every  body  says,  "  Radiant  as  a  beam  of  light,  and  as 
evanescent."  One  predicts  vanity,  and  another  this  and  that  bad 
end — for  the  prophets  of  evil  are  more  than  the  prophets  of  hope  in 
this  world.  And  yet  her  time  comes.  She  did  not  know  what  her 
capacities  were,  because  she  did  not  know  herself;  but  when  love 
finds  her  and  wakes  her  up  to  her  true  life,  and  she  becomes  a  wife 
and  a  mother,  how  all  the  gayety,  all  the  vanity,  and  all  the  frivolity 
are  gone !  How,  rather,  do  they  change  themselves,  and  rest  like 
dew  upon  the  flowers !  How  utterly  is  she  transformed  !  And  in 
the  nursery  how  this  mother  becomes  a  new  being !  Now  all 
look  upon  her  and  admire — even  those  that  once  detracted.  She 
has  learned  in  that  state  to  be  content.  Take  her  out  of  that 
state,  and  will  she  be  contented  in  another,  in  a  different  state  ?  Ah  ! 
she  has  not  learned  that.  She  has  learned  to  be  content  in  one  state. 
If  that  one  state  were  sufficient  for  every  faculty,  then  she  could  do 


116  CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS. 

as  Paul  did.  The  magnitude  of  that  experience  in  him  was  such  as 
to  be  universal  in  its  application. 

I  heard  a  man  once  say,  "  If  I  could  stand  and  receive  dollars  over 
a  counter,  I  would  not  like  any  better  heaven  than  this  world."  I  do 
not  tliink  it  would,  take  much  to  make  that  man  happy.  It  would 
not  require  much  building,  and  he  could  not  say  that  the  "builder" 
and  "  maker"  was  God. 

There  are  other  persons  that  would  be  j^erfectly  content  if  they 
could  have  their  ambition  gratified,  some  in  one  way  and  some  in 
another.  What  man  did  you.  ever  see  that  could  stand  up  and  say, 
*'  I  have  learned  in  whatever  state  I  am,  and  in  all  places,  to  be  con- 
tent ?  Put  me  where  you  please,  and  I  will  make  it  paradise.  Give 
me  my  children,  and  I  am  happy.  Take  them  all  away,  and  I  have 
that  still  which  will  make  me  happy.  Give  me  friends,  and  I  am 
happy.  Nothing  is  so  dear  to  me  as  to  be  loved,  and  know  that  men 
approve  what  I  am  doing  and  what  I  am  saying.  But  take  them  all 
away,  and  leave  me  the  consciousness  that  I  am  right  with  God,  and 
that  I  am  right  on  all  the  great  fundamental  truths,  and  I  am  happy. 
Give  me  the  multitude,  or  give  me  the  wilderness,  I  have  one  thing 
for  the  one,  and  I  have  another  experience  for  the  other ;  and  in  both 
places  I  have  learned  to  control  myself,  and  I  am  perfectly  haj^py. 
Oh  !  give  mc  the  abounding  experience  which  belongs  to  royalty  and 
the  realm  of  the  heart  in  its  best  estate.  Let  all  heaven  seem  to  be 
in  persjDcctive  in  the  experiences  of  true  loving  upon  earth,  and  of 
course  I  could  be  content  in  that.  Take  them  all  away,  and  let  me 
feel  that  the  deepest  feelings  of  my  life  have  never  been  touched ; 
let  me  feel  that  the  depths  have  been  unsounded  in  me,  and  I  can  be 
contented  yet." 

Can  you  say  that  ?  Did  you  ever  know  any  body  that  could  ?  I 
should  like  to  have  known  one  man  that  coixld,  and  that  man's  name 
was  Paul.     It  was  easy  and  familiar  with  him. 

III.  Nay  more.  There  is  something  harder  than  this.  That  is 
alternation.  Men  get  used  to  things,  so  that  if  you  let  them  have 
one  state  of  things  long  enough  they  will  learn  to  adapt  themselves 
to  it.  Or,  give  them,  if  you  change,  time  enough  to  get  used  to  the 
next  state,  and  they  will  contrive,  in  one  way  or  another,  to  bear  it. 
But  the  Apostle  Paul  says,  "  I  have  learned  both."  It  is  as  if  a  man 
were  oscillating — as  if  here  was  the  extreme  of  heat,  and  there  was 
the  extreme  of  cold,  and  he  was  a  pendulum  between  them,  and  this 
tick  took  him  to  the  north  pole,  and  that  to  the  equator,  and  he  should 
say,  "  I  have  learned,  whether  ticking  here  in  the  tropics,  or  there 
in  the  frigid  zone,  to  be  content.  You  can  not  change  me  so 
quick  that  I  can  not  change  too.  You  can  not  have  revolution  so 
rapid  that  I  will  not  more  than  keep  pace  with  it  in  my  prepara- 
tion." 


CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS.  117 

If  this  was  so,  was  the  Apostle  really  imagining  ?  Is  this  fiction  ? 
Is  it  an  ideal  dream  ?  Is  he  painting  somebody  whom  he  imagines 
to  exist  ?  No  !  he  is  painting  his  own  self.  It  is  a  record  of  his  per- 
sonal experience.  I  believe  it  was  a  true  experience.  Although  I 
have  not  got  it  myself,  I  have  had  just  taste  enough  of  it,  I  have 
nibbled  at  it  enough  to  know  its  pleasure.  A  man  may  know  that 
bread  is  bread,  although  he  can  not  eat  the  whole  loaf  And  I  have 
come  near  enough  to  these  states  to  be  able  to  say,  "  I  know  person- 
ally that  there  is  a  power  in  the  soul,  if  it  be  rightly  educated  and 
developed,  that  shall  enable  a  man  to  be  content,  suprcmel}^  so,  in 
any  state,  wheresoever  he  is.  In  the  absolute  solitude  of  Sahara,  in 
Africa,  or  in  the  absolute  solitude  of  the  crowds  of  New- York  (for 
there  is  nothing  so  solitary  as  a  crowd)  a  man  may  be  content,  I 
know  that  a  man  can  be  suddenly  hurried  out  of  one  state  into 
another,  and  that  he  can  be  content  in  either.  There  is  a  power  in 
the  soul,  if  yon  can  nncoil  it  and  bring  it  out,  that  shall  sustain  a 
man  under  such  circumstances ;  and  you  can  not  shift  them  so  rapidly 
but  that  he  shall  know  both  how  to  be  abased  and  how  to  abound. 

Here  is  a  man  that  for  twenty  or  thirty  years  has  been  amassing 
property.  There  are  some  men  who  think  that  the  globe  is  a  sponge 
that  God  puts  into  their  hand  to  squeeze  for  their  own  garden  or  flow- 
er-pot, and  who  would  not  hesitate  to  squeeze  the  terraqueous  globe 
for  their  own  selfish  benefit,  though  five  hundred  thousand  of  their 
fellow-men  were  destroyed  in  the  operation.  Somebody  has  been 
squeezing  New- York  lately,  and  some  men  who  were  half-millionaires 
last  week  are  in  poverty  now.  I  should  like  to  question  some  of 
these  men — for  I  notice  that  many  of  them  are  members  of  the  church. 
I  have  noticed  that  many  eminent  financiers  are  very  eminent 
church-members.  I  wish  being  a  member  of  the  church  was  synon- 
ymous with  being  a  Christian ;  but  it  is  not.  I  should  like  to  ask 
one  of  those  men.  Do  you  think  that  you  have  been  hurt  by  tlie  riches 
which  you  have  had  during  the  last  ten  years  ?  "  No,"  says  the 
man,  "  I  do  not  think  I  have  been  hurt  by  them."  Yon  have  lost  them 
all,  have  you  ?  "  Yes ;  I  am  as  2>oor  as  when  I  first  came  into  the 
street."  You  had  learned  to  be  content  in  being  rich  :  have  you  learned 
to  be  content  now  that  you  are  not  rich — very  suddenly,  too  ?  You 
liked  to  be  rich,  did  you ?  Do  you  like  to  be  poor?  Now,  gnaw  at 
that  awhile  !  See  if  there  is  that  in  you  on  which  you  can  lean.  Go 
round  aboiit  in  your  soul  and  see  if  there  is  any  thing  there  that  can 
help  you.  See  if  the  reason  why  you  stood  high  among  men  was  not 
that  you  had  money  to  let.  See  if  you  had  manhood  to  let.  Go  and 
ask,  "  Is  there  any  thing  that  imagination  can  do  for  me  ?"  Ask 
faith,  "  Can  you  bring  any  thing  to  me  ?"  Say  to  conscience,  "  I  am 
poverty-stricken  :  can  you  do  any  thing  for  me  ?"     Ask  God  and  the 


118  CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS. 

Lord  Jesus  Christ,  "  Is  any  thing  left  for  me  ?"  And  if,  in  the  hour 
of  poverty,  you  are  able  to  stand  up  and  say,  "  I  have  lost  a  little 
dust ;  but  God  is  mine,  and  Christ  is  mine,  and  heaven  is  mine,  and 
the  years  are  few  that  separate  us,  and  ere  long  I  shall  be  blessed 
beyond  all  thought  or  conception.  What  matters  it  that  my  cup  is 
turned  over  ?  The  ocean  is  not  spilled  because  my  cap  is  spilled  " — 
if  you  can  say  that,  then  you  have  come  very  near  to  Paul.  But 
who  can  say  it  ?     Who  can  say  it  easily  ? 

Oh !  what  agonies  I  have  seen.  I  have  seen  purgatory  in  the 
natural  life,  and  I  pity  poor  wretches  tliat  have  got  to  go  through  it 
again.  I  have  seen  the  sweat  on  men's  brows,  I  have  seen  the  knotted 
muscle  on  the  corrugated  arm  of  men.  What  hurt  them  ?  What 
was  the  matter  ?  No  fever-fit,  no  griping  gout,  no  rheumatism,  no 
cramps  with  hideous  gnawings.  It  was  this  :  money  was  going  ;  re- 
putation was  going.  It  was  a  strife  against  bankruptcy,  and  all  in 
vain.  "  O  God  !  that  I  might  die."  Die  for  what  ?  "  Because  I  have 
not  got  money  !"  Many  and  many  a  man  has  put  himself  out  of  life. 
Why  ?  He  lost  his  money,  and,  as  men  say,  "he  lost  his  reason." 
That  is  about  it.  Many  men,  if  they  lose  their  money,  lose  about 
all  the  reason  that  they  have ! 

How  many  men  can  say,  "  I  have  learned  that  I  am  more  than 
mine"  ?  What  would  you  think  of  a  man  that  could  not  say  that  ? 
I  should  not  think  much  of  him.  I  sliould  not  think  that  lie  was  very 
high.  And  I  am  not  surprised  at  all  when  I  see  a  true  English  lord 
— a  man  that  is  one,  and  not  that  the  law  makes  one — because  there 
is  nobility.  God  makes  such  lords,  and  not  the  king  nor  the  Consti- 
tution, I  have  met  them,  and  seen  that  their  dominion  and  name 
were  as  little  to  them  as  mine  are  to  me.  They  accepted  them,  they 
rejoiced  in  them;  but  if  in  a  revolution  they  had  lost  them  all,  I  do 
not  believe  it  would  have  cost  them  one  night's  sleep,  or  one  pang. 
I  have  seen  men  under  such  circumstances.  I  have  seen  men  who, 
when  all  their  money  was  gone,  were  just  as  sweet  and  happy  as 
they  were  before,  and  who  said,  "  I  have  lost  nothing." 

Suppose  men  should  come  in  my  absence,  (as  they  did  one  day,) 
and  steal  my  clothes  out  of  my  house  ?  I  did  not  believe  that  they 
had  got  me.  A  man  may  steal  my  coat,  and  not  steal  me.  I  and 
my  coat  are  very  different,  although  I  am  grateful  to  my  coat  for  its 
uses.  And  a  mane's  money,  like  his  garment,  is  separate  from  him  ; 
and  when  men  h'ave  taken  that  away,  they  have  not  taken  him.  Be- 
cause that  is  gone,  he  is  not  gone.  Because  the  things  which  men 
are  pursuing  in  life  are  changing,  it  does  not  follow  that  they  are 
chano-ingr. 

But  is  that  experience  common  ?  Do  men  know  of  that  secret 
reserve  power  that  is  in  them  ?     Is  there  such  a  living  force  which  is 


contentme:^!  m  all  things.  119 

universal  ?  Is  there  such  a  use  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  such 
a  faith  of  God  and  heaven,  that  all  men  can  say,  "  I  have  learned  in 
Avhatsoever  state  I  am,  therewith  to  be  content.  In  all  things  I  have 
learned  both  how  to  be  abased  and  how  to  abound  "  ?  Many  of  you 
have  learned  how  to  be  abased ;  but  I  know  that  the  Lord  knows 
■what  peacocks,  apes,  and  fantastic  fools  you  would  make  of  your- 
selves if  you  were  suddenly  to  become  very  rich!  Knowing  it,  he 
will  not  let  you  have  riches.  You  have  knocked  at  the  door  of 
wealth,  and  striven  for  it ;  but  he  will  not  let  you  have  it.  He  will 
not  trust  you.  He  knows  you,  and  loves  you,  and  he  will  not  give 
it  to  you.  You  have  learned  how  to  be  jjoor.  There  are  a  great 
many  of  you  who  have  learned  how  to  conduct  yourselves  bravely 
and  courageously  in  humble  circumstances.  You  have  learned  to 
say,  "  My  squalid  poverty  is  not  I.  I  have  not  a  palace  here.  This 
is  not  my  only  life.  This  is  my  earthly  life,  my  body  life.  My  home 
is  no  more  here  than  a  man's  resting-place  is  in  his  coffin  when  his 
soul  is  in  heaven.  "When  a  poor  man  has  passed  from  this  world,  he 
has  not  a  pauper-soul,  but  a  Christ-soul,  in  him."  Many  of  you  have 
learned  how  to  be  abased.  You  have  got  used  to  being  harrassed. 
You  have  adapted  your  nature  to  it.  You  have  fought  your  battles 
there.  And  you  can  say,  "I  have  learned  how  to  be  abased."  But  it 
God  should  take  you,  and  with  a  sudden  rebound  should  swing  you 
to  the  other  extreme,  to  the  antithesis  of  your  squalor,  and  you  should 
stand  surrounded  with  an  amplitude  of  means,  with  which  not  only 
to  supply  your  necessities,  but  to  follow  your  vulgar  tendencies,  do 
you  suppose  you  could  keep  your  soul  with  the  same  equanimity  as 
now?  Do  you  suppose  you  could  maintain  your  present  humility 
and  nearness  to  God  ?  A  man  ought  to  be  a  Christian  in  a  parlor  as 
well  as  in  a  cellar.  A  man  ought  to  be  a  Christian  in  an  attic  or  in 
a  dungeon.  A  man  ought  to  be  a  Christian  whether  he  is  rich,  or 
whether  he  is  poor.  Paul  was,  and  if  he  was,  it  was  by  virtue  of 
faculties  that  you  have,  and  by  disclosures  of  powers  in  those  faculties 
which  are  possible  to  you  as  well  as  to  him. 

I  can  not  bear  to  hear  people  say  that  in  order  to  be  Christians 
men  must  be  situated  so  and  so.  For  instance,  if  a  man  is  a  member 
of  a  church,  and  builds  him  a  great  house,  people  shake  their  heads. 
He  is  a  Christian,  and  he  is  increasing  the  store  of  his  money ;  and 
they  quote  that  passage,  (true,  solemnly  true,)  "  A  rich  man  shall 
hardly  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven."  And  the  disciples,  (and 
this  always  seemed  comical  to  me,)  though  so  poor,  Avere  scared  when, 
Christ  told  them  that  a  rich  man  should  not  go  into  heaven,  and  said, 
"  Who  then  can  be  saved  ?"  I  do  not  think  that  riches  hindered 
them  much  !  But  the  answer  was,  "  With  God  all  things  are  possi- 
ble."   It  is  possible  with  God  to  make  a  rich  man  a  good  man,  a  gen- 


120  CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS. 

tie  man,  a  liumMe  man,  a  generous  man.  It  is  possible  for  God  to 
make  a  man  rich,  and  yet  keep  him  so  that  he  will  not  be  avaricious, 
and  will  not  love  money.  It  is  not  inoney  that  is  the  root  of  all  evil. 
It  is  the  love  of  money  that  is  the  root  of  all  evil,  where  a  man  takes 
it  to  his  heart  and  cherishes  it  as  if  it  was  his  child — nay,  as  if  it  was 
the  Avife  of  his  bosom — and  caresses  it,  and  sleeps  with  it,  and  walks 
with  it,  and  talks  with  it,  and  lives  witli  it.  The  love  of  money,  not 
money ^  I  repeat,  is  the  root  of  all  evil.  And  there  are  many  people, 
who,  because  these  solemn  and  aAvful  admonitions  are  true,  terribly 
true,  ruthlessly  true,  say,  wlien  they  see  a  man  becoming  rich,  "  Ah ! 
he  can  not  be  a  Christian  much  longer.  He  lives  in  a  splendid  house, 
and  he  can  not  be  a  Christian."  I  tell  you  it  is  in  the  power  of 
God's  grace  to  disclose  that  in  a  man  by  which  he  can  walk  in  the 
midst  of  all  the  wealth  of  the  earth  and  not  be  affected  by  it  imfa- 
vorably  a  particle.  A  man  can  be  a  king  and  be  a  Christian ;  or  a 
man  can  be  a  slave  and  be  a  Christian.  There  is  a  power  in  every 
man,  if  God  develops  it  in  him,  that  will  make  him  a  Christian  every- 
where, and  under  all  circumstances.  Such  a  Christian  as  that,  at  all 
times  and  in  all  places,  will  be  perfectly  happy,  and  sweet,  and  pow- 
erful. I  do  not  know  which  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  to  see,  a  rich 
man,  humble  as  a  child,  and  using  his  place  with  gentleness  and 
humility,  not  thinkiug  of  himself,  nor  thinking  of  his  own  glory,  but 
making  himself  a  benefactor  to  every  body  that  draws  near  to  him; 
or  to  see  a  man  so  poor  that  poverty  despises  him,  and  yet  not  hum- 
bled a  particle  by  it ;  to  see  a  man  that  has  such  a  sense  of  the  dig- 
nity of  the  Christhood  in  him  that  he  walks  among  men  witli  an  un- 
blenchiug  face,  every  inch  a  man  among  them.  Though  he  goes  with 
rags,  he  has  that  in  him  for  which  Christ  died ;  he  has  that  in  him 
which  allies  him  to  the  Godhead.  And  why  should  he  hang  liis  head, 
or  be  ashamed  of  his  poverty?  Christian  self-respect  and  Cliristian 
conscious  power  among  the  very  poor,  and  Christian  humility  and 
Christian  gentleness  and  purity  and  sweetness  among  the  rich — set 
these  two  pictures  over  against  each  other,  and  see  which  is  the 
handsomer.  Put  them  together,  and  let  them  stand  there.  Tlie  one 
is  as  handsome  as  the  other. 

This  power  always  seemed  to  me  to  be  illustrated  by  sudden  joy 
in  the  midst  of  troubles ;  by  the  rising  up  out  of  a  man's  soul  self- 
sustaining  power  under  all  circumstances. 

An  incident  that  I  read,  which  occurred  at  the  battle  of  Gettys- 
burg, is  a  beautiful  illustration  of  it.  It  Avas  related  by  one  of  the 
letter- writers,  Avho  have  been  tlie  true  historians  of  our  war.  Letters 
from  privates,  published  in  the  country  newspapers,  have  contained 
the  best  accounts  that  have  been  given  of  the  sieges  and  campaigns. 
One  of  these  letter-writers  had  a  poet's  eye     He  narrates  the  fact 


CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS.  121 

that  after  the  terrific  cannonading  which  took  place  on  the  third  day, 
"when  some  four  hundred  cannon  answered  each  other  on  Cemetery 
Rido-e,  there  came  a  sudden  hill,  as  the  enemy  were  about  to  make  a 
charo-e ;  and  that  the  birds,  having  been  scared  out  of  the  peach- 
trees,  out  of  all  the  fruit  and  shade  trees,  by  the  fearful  uproar,  came, 
one  by  one,  gently  flying  back;  and  that,  during  this  momentary 
lull,  the  sjjarrows  opened  their  mouths  and  began  to  sing  again. 
Right  in  the  midst  of  blood,  riglit  in  the  midst  of  ten  thousand 
bleeding  corpses,  and  when  the  echo  had  hardly  died  out  of  the 
heavens,  these  sweet  birds  were  singing. 

I  think  it  is  just  so  with  troubles,  and  trials,  and  temptations  in 
the  world.  If  men  that  have  carried  themselves  into  the  shock  and 
into  the  terrific  conflicts  of  human  life  have  had  this  power  which 
Paul  had,  no  sooner  is  there  a  pause  or  a  moment's  peace,  than  up 
tliere  spring  in  them  birds  that  begin  to  sing  again.  They  never 
are  far  from  the  singing  of  the  birds,  who  have  faith  and  hope  and 
love  dominant  in  their  souls. 

In  looking  back  upon  this  view  which  I  have  disclosed  so  far,  I 
would  remark, 

1st.  It  is  not  a  supernatural  or  miraculous  state.  I  make  this  re- 
mark because  many  of  you  think  that  the  more  eminent  traits  record- 
ed of  the  saints,  of  martyrs,  of  apostles,  and  of  prophets,  do  not  be- 
long to  the  common  race,  but  tliat  God  worked  in*  them  by  some 
miraculous  power.  I  believe  that  they  were  a  result  of  divine  power. 
It  was  the  divine  power  developing  in  men  those  elements  which  be- 
long to  all  men,  and  as  really  to  one  man  as  to  another,  though  not 
in  the  same  degree.  It  is  the  soul's  universal  possibility.  It  is  cer- 
tainly greater  in  great  natures  —  this  power  of  bringing  invisible 
things  to  the  rescue  of  man  under  the  domination  of  physical 
wants;  but  it  belongs  to  human  nature  in  some  measure.  It  is 
the  birthright  of  the  race.  Every  man  has  laid  up  in  his  nature  an 
absolute  sovereignty  over  himself,  whether  he  finds  it  or  not.  One 
may  come  to  it  in  one  way,  and  another  in  another ;  but  if  you  come 
to  it  by  none  of  the  ways,  it  is  still  there. 

You  recollect  that  it  has  been  believed  by  a  great  many  (and 
my  mind  inclines  to  think  it  is  true)  that  one  of  the  Bourbons,  Elea- 
zer  Williams,  who  was  sent  out  of  France  by  French  missionaries  as  a 
child,  who  was  taken  amon^  the  Indians,  and  who  grew  up  among 
them,  Avas  the  rightful  heir  to  the  throne  and  empire.  If  it  was  so, 
he  died  without  the  sight ;  but  he  was  a  king  nevertheless.  He  was 
a  king  when  he  was  apparently  an  Indian  boy,  and  wlien  he  was  a 
missionary  among  the  Indians ;  and  he  was  no  more  a  king  when  he 
began  to  think  that  he  was  being  foully  dealt  with,  and  that  he  was 
of  royal  descent. 


122  CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS. 

Now,  every  one  of  you  is  born  a  king.  You  may  not  know  it; 
you  may  be  hid  in  the  wilderness ;  you  may  be  brought  up  in  tlie 
midst  of  circumstances  which  keep  it  from  your  knowledge  ;  but  if 
you  die,  you  will  die  with  an  absolute  though  unconfessed  sovereignty 
in  your  soul.  God  made  every  man  to  have  power  to  be  more  than 
his  circumstances;  to  be  mightier  than  the  events  round  about  him  ; 
to  control  his  own  j^eace ;  to  hold  in  his  soul  the  reins  by  which  all 
things  are  guided. 

Let  no  man  say,  therefore,  that  this  was  a  special  miraculous  gift 
to  Paul.  Circmnstances  might  have  had  something  miraculous  in 
them,  but  whatever  were  the  incidents,  the  faculties  were  developed 
according  to  natural  law. 

2d.  It  is  not  a  superficial  power,  but  one  that  requires  development. 
It  does  not  come  all  at  once.  "I  have  learned,"  says  the  Apostle. 
It  took  him  forty  years  to  learn  it,  too.  And  yet,  how  many  there 
are  who,  though  they  have  been  only  a  year  in  the  Christian  life,  are 
discouraged  because  they  can  not  put  on  at  once  the  virtues  Avhich 
were  the  exj)erience  of  these  forty  years  of  the  Apostle's  life.  They 
think  they  are  not  Christians.  They  measure  themselves  by  certain 
moral  states  and  attainments  that  belong  to  later  and  riper  condi- 
tions. Why,  a  man  may  be  a  Christian  sowing  the  seed-corn  of  ex- 
perience, just  as  much  as  another  man  who,  having  sown,  is  in  the 
harvest-field  reaping  ripe  ears  with  his  sickle.  Paul  learned  this. 
He  had  a  great  many  trials  before  he  learned  it.  He  learned  it  first 
in  one  point,  and  then  in  another,  and  then  in  another.  He  continued 
topractice,"and  wasnot  discouraged  or  thrown  back.  All  his  lifelong 
he  was  growing  in  that  direction,  until  at  last  he  came  to  that  power 
in  which  he  lived  open-faced,  at  heaven's  gate,  and  the  crown  of 
righteousness  which  the  Lord  the  righteous  judge  reserved  for  him, 
and  not  for  him  only,  but  for  all  of  them  also  that  loved  the  ajDpear- 
ing  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  flashed  evermore  in  his  view.  It  was 
his  sun  by  day,  and  it  was  his  star  by  night.  And  that  it  was  that 
he  learned  in  long  years  of  experience.  So  do  not  be  discouraged  be- 
cause you  do  not  learn  it  in  a  day,  or  a  week,  or  a  year.  Your  business 
and  privilege  is  to  see  that  every  year  you  are  learning  more  and  more  ; 
that  your  faith  is  stronger  in  you  ;  and  that,  in  some  respects,  you 
are  gaining.     This  do,  and  you  may  be  content. 

It  does  not  come  then,  by  prayer  alone,  nor  by  meditation  alone, 
nor  by  reading  the  word  of  God  alone,  nor  by  teaching  alone.  It 
comes  by  these  as  a  part  of  the  universal  system  of  instruments  which 
shall  include  natural  causes,  society  influences,  temptations  as  well  as 
victory,  good  and  evil  both  mixed.  It  is  a  various  training.  There- 
fore there  is  a  meaning,  in  this  view,  given  in  the  declarations,  "  We 
walk  by  faith,  not  by  sight ;"  "Your  victory  over  the  world,  which 


CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS.  123 

is  your  faith  ;"  "  Seek  ye  first  tlie  kingdom  of  God,  and  his  righteous- 
ness, and  all  these  things  shall  bo  added  unto  you  ;"  and  many  other 
passages  of  the  same  kind,  showing  that  when  a  man  has  once  come 
into  that  high  moral  condition,  he  dominates  every  thing  that  is  below 
him. 

There  is  more  than  this.  "When  men  are  in  that  high  state,  they 
are  capable  of  understanding  things.  They  are  not  merely  cajiable 
of  rapturous  feeling,  but  they  are  capable  of  understanding  raptures 
and  harmonies  Avhich  do  not  belong  to  any  lower  condition. 

On  three  or  four  occasions  in  my  life — not  always  by  religious 
instruments,  but  more  often  by  these  than  by  any  others — I  have  had 
an  experience  of  this  sort.  Once,  when  I  stood  for  the  first  time  in 
a  European  gallery  of  pictures,  the  tide  of  excitement  and  influence 
was  such  as  lifted  up  not  merely  my  artistic  faculties,  but,  by  sym- 
pathy with  them,  every  power  and  part  of  my  nature.  I  came  to  a 
point  of  exaltation  where  I  felt  such  excitement  that  I  did  not  know 
whether  my  feet  touched  the  ground  or  not.  I  knew  that  I  was  up, 
because  I  could  not  feel  that  I  touched  the  ground  at  alb  And  in 
that  hour,  (I  remember  it  as  though  it  were  but  yesterday ;  for  such 
experiences  are  stars  that  never  set,)  although  the  cause  was  form 
and  color  and  artistic  beauty,  when  I  went  up  sympathetically  in 
other  faculties  to  that  liigh  exaltation,  all  truths  of  religion,  and 
all  truths  of  society,  and  all  truths  of  art,  seemed  to  come  to 
me  ujjon  a  common  j^lane ;  and  I  saw  their  congruities,  their  simi- 
larities, and  their  beauties,  as  I  never  saw  them  before,  and  as  I  can 
not  recollect  them  now.  One  of  the  great  troubles  with  a  man's 
preaching  is,  that  he  conceives  of  his  subject  in  moments  of  exaltation, 
and  that  when  he  comes  before  his  congregation,  he  can  not  get  back 
to  the  high  state  in  which  it  flashed  upon  his  mind  ;  and  so  he  makes  a 
ragged  sermon  of  a  magnificent  subject.  He  spoils  a  good  text  by  a 
poor  expounding  and  performance.  I  learned  that  those  things  which 
in  a  lower  sphere  are  incongruous  and  unharmonious,  are,  when  we 
rise  to  a  higher  sphere,  jDcrfectly  harmonious  and  perfectly  congru- 
ous. 

"When  I  was  in  England,  (I  do  not  know  as  I  ever  told  you  be- 
fore,) I  attended  services  mostly  in  the  Episcopal  Church.  When  I 
was  in  England,  if  I  could — and  where  there  was  a  will,  there  was  a 
way — I  never  failed  to  go  to  the  ten  o'clock  service,  the  musical  ser- 
vice ;  nor  to  the  vesper  service,  the  sunset  service.  On  the  Sab- 
bath-days in  London  I  attended  services  at  Westminster,  and  St. 
Paul's,  and,  particularly,  the  Temple  Church,  Why?  Because 
I  am  an  Episcopalian  ?  Yes,  I  am.  I  am  a  Presbyterian,  too ;  and  I 
am  a  Metliodist,  and  a  Baptist,  and  a  Swedenborgian.  I  am  every 
thing  that  has  any  good  in  it.    I  never  saw  a  flower  that  was  beauti- 


124  CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS. 

ful  that  I  did  not  pick  it  without  asking  the  bush  how  it  came  to  be 
so  homely.  Honey  is  honey,  no  matter  where  it  is  found.  And  any 
thing  that  gives  my  soul  a  lift,  I  will  take,  and  will  be  grateful  for. 
And  I  can  say  this,  (my  Ej^iscopal  brethren  may  make  as  much  out 
of  it  as  they  can  for  their  cliurch;  they  are  welcome  to  it ;  I  bid  them 
God-speed,)  that  the  choral  service  in  their  cathedrals  lifted  me  up  as 
no  sermon  ever  did,  as  no  prayer  ever  did,  and  brought  me  nearer  to 
God,  nearer  to  Christ,  nearer  to  heaven.  With  suffusion  of  tears, 
and  almost  dissolving  body,  it  carried  me  higher  than  I  ever  stood 
before.  And  at  that  high  point  I  learned  that  laughter  and  venera- 
tion were  sworn  brothers.  In  that  moment  I  learned  that  familiari- 
ty and  the  most  august  reverence  were  perfectly  harmonious.  I 
learned  that  those  things  which,  lower  down,  were  separate,  became 
joined  so  soon  as  men  rise  high  enough  to  take  them  together. 

So  there  is,  in  this  high  state  of  mind,  in  this  exaltation  of  the 
moral  sentiments,  if  men  would  only  reach  unto  it,  a  power  higher 
than  logic.  There  is  that  which  is  more  than  philosophy.  There  is 
that  which  is  truer  than  science.  There  is  that  which  is  richer  than 
love.  There  is  a  realm  of  revelation,  if  men  knew  how  to  rise  into 
these  higher  states,  that  you  can  rise  into,  and  that  your  children  can 
rise  into.  And  if  you  can  not  rise  wholly  into  it  at  first,  you  can,  by 
flights  and  dashes  and  wider  and  wider  circuits,  reach  higher  and 
higher  attainments.  And  gradually  we  may  all  come  "  to  the  know- 
ledge of  the  Son  of  God,  unto  a  perfect  man,  unto  the  measure  and 
stature  of  the  fullness  of  Christ."  Do  not  be  discouraged,  then. 
If  your  attainments  have  been  slender  hitherto,  the  way  is  all 
before  you.  If  you  stop,  thinking  that  these  exaltations  are  not 
for  you,  they  are  for  you. 

I  sometimes  ridicule  Perfectionists.  When  I  ridicule  people, 
I  want  to  do  it  in  a  good-natured  way.  That  takes  off  the 
sting.  But  I  can  not  help  laughing  at  Perfectionists.  The  idea  of 
a  perfect  man  or  a  perfect  woman  in  this  world  is  one  of  the  sweetest 
jests  that  I  ever  roll  under  my  tongue  !  Yet,  I  honor  any  true  man 
or  woman  that  is  a  Perfectionist — not  a  pretentious  one ;  not  an  in- 
sincere one.  What  is  their  mistake  ?  Well,  they  are  trying  to  give 
a  solution,  by  an  old-fashioned  philosophy,  of  things  that  are  true  in 
fact,  but  that  are  not  true  in  explanation.  There  is  a  higher  realm  in 
the  soul  where  peace  dwells;  there  is  a  i^lace  where  joy  is  to  bo 
found ;  there  is  a  vision  of  nobler  things  Avhich  men  rise  into ;  and 
they  say  that  in  these  exalted  states  they  are  perfect.  No,  they  are 
luot  perfect;  but  they  have  touched  that  hidden  power  of  the  soul  by 
which  the  Apostle  was  able  to  say,  "  Out  of  the  resources  of  the  full- 
ness and  grace  of  my  nature,  God  makes  me  rich.  I  am  able  to  be 
content  in  all  places  whatsoever,  and  wheresoever  I  am,"  These 
higher  realms  of  experience  are  real. 


CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS.  125 

Let  me  say,  lastly — and  I  say  it  especially  to  those  who  are  in  the 
cold  chills  that  are  coming  npon  us  through  skepticism,  and  who  are 
accustomed  to  think  tliat  religion  is  all  mere  excitement,  that  it  is 
illusory,  that  it  is  a  matter  got  up  among  men  ;  and  if  you  mean  by 
"got  up"  that  they  are  produced  by  causations,  I  say.  Yes,  it  is  the 
effect  of  true  causes;  all  practical  religion  is  true  causation — let  me 
say  to  all  this  class  of  people,  that  experimental  religion  is  not  less 
than  it  is  thougiit  to  be,  but  a  great  deal  more — and  this  in  spite  of 
all  its  mistakes.  The  mistakes  are  the  mistakes  of  men  who  are  try- 
ing to  do  the  noblest  things. 

There  is  a  shop,  and  there  are  six  or  eight  young  fellows  in  it. 
Five  of  them  go  out  at  night,  as  it  is  said,  on  a  spree — that  is,  upon  a 
beastly  excursion.     They  go  out  to  fiddle  on  the  coarser  fibres  of 
their  physical  frame,  and  call  that  having  fun — having  a  good  time. 
There  is  a  sixth  one,  who  in  a  blind  and  blundering  way  follows  the 
impulse  of  art  in  him  ;  and  he,  when  he  is  sure  that  the  door  is  shut 
and  that  no  one  is  looking  at 'him,  with  charcoal  on  old  boards,  is 
endeavoring  to  sketch  some  rude  fancy  that  is  in  his  mind.     And 
how  grotesque  it  is  !     How  strange  the  raiment  is !     How  oddly  the 
figure  is  standing  in  the  window !     If  you  i^lease,  laugh   at  Iiim. 
While  his  companions  are  going  on  their  beastly  orgies,  there  is  a 
man  who  is  trying  to  find  his  way  up  to  the  serene  region  of  creative 
art.      And  because  his  first  essays  are  rude  and  homely,  because 
there  is  disproportion  and  no  beauty  there,  is  it  true  that  it  is  not 
admirable  and  noble  ?     And  when  a  man  is  trying  to  give  color  and 
beauty  to  an  immortal  picture  in  his  own  disposition,  and  trying  with 
little  light  but  with  hope  and  divine  inspiration,  because  he  draws 
too  large  or  draws  too  small,  because  there  is  a  want  of  proportion 
and  harmony  in  it,  shall  men  stand  leering  and  laughing,  and  say- 
ing, "  There  is  nothing  in  your  religion ;  it  is  all  an  illusion  "?    These 
are  rude  endeavors  that  yet  one  day  shall  stand  flushed  with  the  glow 
of  beauty  in  the  heavenly  land.     And  they  that  creep  shall  walk, 
and  they  that  walk  shall  run,  and  they  that  run  shall  fly,  in  that  su- 
pernal air.     These  endeavors  of  men,  by  their  higher  experiences,  to 
lift  up  their  supernal  faculties,  to  bring  Christ  in,  and  heaven  down, 
and  make  themselves  more  and  mightier  than  the  world  can  make 
them,  are  genuine.     These  experiences  are  real.     And  I  do  not  care 
what  you  say  of  the  Bible,  or  of  theology,  or  of  religion.     The  human 
soul  I  know  about ;  and  I  know  that  when  these  notes  ring  out  of  it, 
they  are  notes  gladder  than  marriage-bells,  and  nobler  than  any  thing 
that  man  seeks.     Religion  is  real  if  it  is  exj^erimental.     Theology  is 
poor,  but  religion  is  glorious — and  experimental  religion  is  the  most 
glorious  of  all. 

Let  no  man,  then,  say  that  the  experience  of  Christians,  that  ex- 


126  CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS. 

perimental  religion,  is  a  fantasy.  Religion  has  proved  itself  to  be 
real  by  the  fact  that  it  has  been  able  to  bear  up  the  illusions  and  phan- 
tasms that  have  lain  on  it  so  long.  It  has  been  able  to  maintain  it- 
self thus  far,  and  it  will  be  to  the  end  of  the  world. 

God  grant  that  we  may  know  how  to  say,  with  the  Apostle,  "  I 
have  learned — I  have  learned."  I  can  not  quote  any  thing — let  me 
read  it  again  ! 

How  beautifully  Paul's  influence  dropped  out.  He  had  been 
speaking  about  charity ;  and  he  thought  instantly,  "  They  may 
think  that  I  want  something  ;  and  so  I  shall  break  the  force  of  this 
testimony."  And  he  says,  "  Not  that  I  speak  in  respect  of  want. 
That  is  not  what  I  said  this  for.  For  I  have  learned,  in  whatso- 
ever state  I  am,  therewith  to  be  content.  I  know  both  how  to  be 
abased,  and  I  know  how  to  abound :  everywhere,  and  in  all  things,  I 
am  instructed  both  to  be  full  and  to  be  hungry,  both  to  abound  and 
to  suffer  need." 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMOX, 

O  THOTi  that  art  oni'  Father,  reveal  thyself  to  ns  by  thy  heart,  by  thy  providences.  Eeveal 
thyself  to  us  in  our  own  hearts  and  out  of  our  own  experiences.  For  thou  hast  made  us  capable 
of  understanding  thee  by  making  us  like  thee.  And  when  we  have  known  our  own  best  paternal 
relations,  we  have  shadowed  in  them  thy  nature,  and  thy  feelings  toward  us.  And  in  all  the 
work  to  which  we  are  called,  with  so  much  patience  and  sacrifice  and  pain  of  love,  of  rearing  our 
children  out  of  helplessness  into  experience  and  strength,  and  out  of  irregularity  and  inexperience 
into  self-governing  creatures,  in  all  the  waiting  for  them,  thou  art  shadowed  forth  in  thy  dealings 
with  us.  It  is  thy  nature  to  wait.  It  is  thy  nature  to  be  patient  and  gentle.  It  is  thy  nature  to 
bring  out  of  inexperience,  yea,  and  out  of  faults  themselves,  the  virtues  of  life,  and  to  establish 
the  soul  in  righteousness.  Blessed  be  thy  name,  that  thou  art  brought  home  to  us  in  a  way  so 
near,  so  touching,  that  our  hearts  are  opened  in  loving  our  children,  and  being  loved  by  them,  to 
the  very  government  of  God  in  the  universe.  Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  the  thought  of  God  may 
make  fatherhood  more  rich  and  more  glorious  among  us.  Grant  that  thy  love,  though  we  learn 
it  from  ours,  may  return  to  us,  when  learned,  with  such  dignifying  power  that  our  own  affections 
shall  stand  up  grander  than  before  we  knew  thee.  God,  grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  we  may 
know  what  faithfulness  is,  and  learn  to  be  faithful ;  that  we  may  have  a  higher  lesson  of  patience ; 
that  we  may  carry  all  the  rights  and  duties  and  blessings  of  true  loving  into  the  household,  not 
as  our  necessity,  our  yoke,  and  our  law.  May  we,  out  of  the  necessity  of  full  hearts,  perform 
th?  duties  of  love.    Grant  that  it  may  be  spontaneous,  overflovring,  abounding  evermore. 

O  Lord  I  we  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  made  us  like  thyself,  and  that  thou  art  drawing  us  to 
thyself  by  the  bond  of  love.  And  we  thank  thee  that  so  we  are  knitted  one  to  another.  And  for 
its  fruition,  and  all  its  elevation  and  joys  in  times  past,  we  thank  thee. 

We  pray  that  thou  wilt  sanctify  our  affections.  FiU  us  more  with  the  spirit  of  the  Master. 
Give  more  of  the  heavenly  and  less  of  the  earthly  to  us.  Grant  that  we  may  lift  up  our  hearts 
until  we  see  over  against  them,  and  lying  behind  them,  the  whole  of  the  Infinite,  the  whole  of 
the  Eternal.    Grant,  O  God  !  that  thus  we  may  exalt  ourselves,  and  not  debase  ourselves. 

Be  pleased  to  bless  the  households  that  are  here  represented.  Carry  peace,  and  purity,  and 
joy,  and  liberty  into  every  one.    Have  compassion,  we  beseech  of  thee,  upon  those  parents  upon 


CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS.  127 

whom  the  burdens  rest  heavily  by  reason  of  sickness  or  inexperience,  or  from  the  straitness 
of  their  outward  condition,  or  from  any  cause  whatsoever.  Will  the  Lord  grant  to  such  strength. 
Spread  abroad  upon  them  such  a  spirit  that  they  may  be  able  to  stand  in  their  lot  and  perform 
their  whole  duty  toward  their  children. 

We  pray  that  thou  wilt  bless  the  children  of  the  Church.  O  Lord  !  we  thank  thee  that  so 
many  have  grown  out  of  childhood  into  a  manhood  of  true  piety ;  tliat  so  many  are  coming  up,  ap- 
parently, in  that  way  from  which  they  will  not  depart  by  and  by.  We  thank  thee  that  we  have 
hope  of  those  that  are  not  in  the  ways  of  righteousness,  that  yet  they  shall  return,  and  that  the 
remnant  even  shall  be  saved,  and  none  shall  be  cast  away. 

We  pray,  O  Lord  !  that  thou  wlit  grant  thy  blessing  especially  to  rest  upon  the  dear  parents 
that  have  brought  their  children  hither  this  morning,  and  have  taken  on  themselves  vows  in  be- 
half of  these  cliilJrcn  as  Christian  parents,  and  as  witnesses  have  stood  up  among  their  brethren. 
We  take  them  into  our  Siinpathy  :  take  thou  them.  All  our  hearts  go  out  to  bless  them  :  let  thy 
heart  go  forth  to  bless  them. 

Let  the  dear  children's  life  be  precious  in  thy  sight ;  and  may  they  live  not  to  distress,  but  to 
honor  and  strengthen  their  parents.  And  we  pray,  O  Lord  1  tiiat  thou  wilt  grant  that  those  chil- 
dren who  lie  as  the  leaves  lie  shaken  down — orphans,  that  are  as  disheveled  leaves,  the  neglected 
children — may  come  up  in  remembrance  before  us.  And  when  we  see  in  purity,  and  in  health,  and 
in  sweetness,  those  dear  children  that  are  brought  hither,  may  we  remember  the  squalid  children 
that  no  parent  and  no  sanctuary  cares  for.  What  have  they  done  ?  and  why  are  they  thus  ?  O 
Lord !  we  pray  for  the  orphans,  and  we  pray  for  children  that  are  worse  than  orphans.  And  we 
beseech  of  thee  that  the  humble  efforts  which  we  make,  or  any  of  us,  to  carry  fidelity  and  privi- 
leges out  from  our  own  households  among  the  parentless  and  neglected,  as  they  have  been 
mspired  of  thee,  may  be  blessed  of  thee.  Bless  those  that  bless.  Teach  those  that  teach. 
Comfort  the  comforters. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  every  one  who  has  hope  in  Christ  Jesus  may  feel  that  he  is 
called  from  seclusion  to  be  a  witness  for  his  Master.  May  every  lip  have  something  to  say  of  what 
God  has  done  for  it.  May  every  heart  have  some  overflowing.  Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  freely 
as  each  has  received,  so  freely  he  may  forgive. 

And  grant  that  our  sympathy  and  our  desire  may  not  stop  in  our  own  community.  May 
our  whole  land  come  up  m  remembrance  before  us,  and  before  thee.  We  thank  thee  for  that 
high  and  signal  hand  which  has  been  over  us,  and  which  has  condescended  to  fight  our  battles,  to 
guide  us  in  the  path  when  we  were  in  the  wilderness  perplexed,  and  by  a  way  that  we  knew  not 
of,  to  bring  out  our  feet  and  plant  them  in  strength.  O  Lord  God  of  our  Fathers,  God  of  battles, 
God  of  justice,  God  of  liberty  and  of  love,  to  thee  we  commit  this  nation  in  aU  its  interests. 

Bless  those  that  are  teaching  everywhere,  and  especially  those  that  take  their  lives  in 
their  hands,  and,  imitating  their  Master,  go  forth  and  become  humble  as  the  very  servants,  that 
they  may  teach  the  Freedmen.  In  all  their  persecutions,  in  all  their  weariness,  in  all  their 
multiform  trials,  O  Lord  God  1  be  thou  with  them.  And  if  any  are  called  to  lay  down  their  lives, 
nay  they,  as  did  those  ancient  martjTs,  see  Jesus  standing  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  in  the  bless- 
edness of  heaven,  and  feel  no  stones  smiting  them,  nor  deaths  coming.  May  men  learn  to  count 
their  lives  by  a  dilTerent  value.  May  men  feel  that  it  is  not  what  they  get,  but  what  they  give, 
that  measures  life  and  wealth.  And  oh  !  that  there  might  be  raised  up  in  our  midst  a  generation 
more  heroic,  more  self-sacrificing,  and  that  there  might  be  men  that  shall  love  the  truth 
above  all  things ;  men  that  shall  have  no  fear  and  no  fierceness ;  that  shall  move  with  the 
courage  of  the  lion  and  the  sweetness  of  the  lamb.  May  they  go  forth  everywhere,  and  stUl 
spread  light,  fighting  against  darkness,  and  pitching  the  daylight  against  the  midnight,  and  carry- 
ing victory  everywhere,  unfurling  the  banner  of  God.  Oh  !  that  in  all  this  nation  there  might  pre- 
vail love,  purity,  and  righteousness.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thy  people  of  every  name 
may  be  joined  together.  May  suspicions  die  out,  and  all  hatreds,  and  all  those  influences  that  se 
parate  between  brother  and  brother.    In  the  things  in  which  we  agree,  may  we  make  haste  to  bo 


128  CONTENTMENT  IN  ALL    THINGS. 

one ;  and  in  the  things  in  which  we  differ  may  we  each  one  be  fully  persuaded  in  his  own  mind, 
and  let  his  brother  alone. 

And  we  beseech  of  thee,  O  Lord  our  God  I  that  thou  wilt  not  look  alone  upon  this  land.  Is 
not  the  whole  earth  thine  ?  And  are  not  all  men  ours  ?  Oh  1  that  thou  wouldst  look  upon  the  dis- 
tressed condition  of  the  nations  of  the  earth.  They  are  growing.  Out  of  the  darkness  of  ages 
light  is  dawning  ;  and  the  dark  is  gray  akeady,  and  the  gray  shall  yet  be  white.  Come,  O  thou 
Sun  of  Eighteousness  I  thou  that  waitest  long,  but  comest  in  victory  evermore— come  forth,  we  be- 
seech of  thee,  and  roll  away  the  ignorance  that  covers  the  nations  as  a  thick  cloud.  Bring  in  the 
light  of  intelligence.  Bring  in  with  it  the  power  of  a  true  nature.  Purify  the  soul,  exalt  the  con- 
science, inspire  faith,  bring  men  to  thee  and  to  each  other,  and  so  to  their  birthright.  And  grant 
that  the  whole  earth  may  cease  to  torment  itself,  and  that  men  may  cease  to  persecute  men. 
Grant  that  all  nations  at  last  may  learn  the  ways  of  peace  and  of  blessedness. 

We  can  not  think  of  the  world  without  tears.  How  canst  thou,  O  God  f  It  is  because  thou 
Beest  the  end.  We  then  will  have  faith  in  what  we  can  not  see.  There  is  a  bright  day.  There  is 
a  summer  for  our  winter.  There  is  a  joy  that  yet  shall  come.  The  angels  shall  proclaim  it, 
and  aU  the  earth  shall  cease  sighing  and  break  out  in  choral  harmonies.  Though  we  do  not  see 
now,  nor  where,  nor  when,  in  the  faith  of  that  which  thou  art  seeing  and  by  which  thou  art  pa- 
tient, we  ourselves  wiU  take  courage,  and  wait  for  the  day.  And  whether  or  not  we  see  the 
beginning  of  it  here  on  earth,  grant  that  we  may  behold  it  in  heaven.  Therefore  bring  us  all 
there  with  an  everlasting  salvation,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.    Amen. 


IX. 

ABHORRENCE   OF  EVIL. 


ABHORRENCE   OF   EYIL 

SUNDAY  EVENING,  NOVEMBER  15,  1868. 


"  Abhor  that  wliicL.  is  evil." — Rom.  xii.  9. 


Evert  faculty  has  in  itself  a  repugnance — a  constitutional  repug- 
nance— to  that  which  to  it  is  evil.  It  is  a  part  of  its  health  that  it 
should  have  this  power  of  resistance,  this  j)ower  of  rebound,  from  that 
which  is  evil.  It  is  this  spirit  of  resistance  to  that  which  is  evil  that 
is  called  hating  ;  and  where  it  is  very  intense,  so  as  to  excite  the 
whole  being,  it  becomes  ahhorrence.  The  lowest  forms  of  this  feeling 
are  simply  those  of  dislike,  then  repugnance,  then  hatred,  and  then 
abhorrence.  The  very  word,  in  its  etymology,  signifies  that  kind  of 
aflfright  which  causes  the  quill  or  the  hair  of  an  animal  to  stand  on 
end,  and  throws  it  into  a  violent  tremor,  and  puts  it  into  the  attitude 
either  of  self-defense  or  aggression,  so  that  every  part  of  it  is  stirred 
up  with  a  consuming  feeling. 

It  is  this  feeling  that  we  are  commanded  to  exercise  toward  evil 
— and  that  in  a  book  which  descants  more  lai-gely  on  the  subject  of 
charity,  and  forgiveness,  and  leniency,  and  mercy,  and  pity,  and  love, 
not  only  toward  the  good  but  toward  evil-doers,  than  all  other  books 
that  ever  were  Avritten  put  together.  While  there  is  a  duty  of  char- 
ity and  a  sphere  of  love,  there  is  unquestionably  a  duty  of  hatred  and 
a  sphere  for  abhorrence. 

Is  it  not  a  dangerous  weapon  to  put  into  a  man's  hands  ?  It  is  a 
very  dangerous  weapon.  So  is  fire  a  very  dangerous  element  to  have 
in  a  man's  house ;  and  yet  if,  because  it  is  dangerous,  all  fire  should 
be  put  out  on  the  globe,  such  is  its  connection  with  domestic  and 
civilized  life  that  society  would  go  to  ashes  in  a  year !  We  must 
therefore  use  it,  and  use  it  discreetly. 

Lesson  :  Psalm  10.    Hymns  (Plymouth  Collection)  :  Nos.  787,  878, 1011. 


130  ABEOBBENGE  OF  EVIL. 

Hatred  or  abhorrence  is  very  dangerous.  Let  us  therefore  use  it 
with  discretion.  Because  it  is  not  well  educated,  because  it  is  con- 
tinually making  mistakes,  and  because  oftentimes  it  leads  to  great 
mischiefs  where  it  undertakes  to  do  good,  it  is  not  to  be  forborne  or 
disused ;  but  we  are  to  study  to  learn  its  nature,  its  applications,  its 
administration,  its  functions. 

It  is  to  help  you  somewhat  in  doing  this  that  I  shall  speak  to- 
night. 

You  must  learn  to  be  good  haters — but  not  of  men.  That  is  not 
the  text.  You  do  not  need  any  thing  to  instruct  you  on  that  point. 
You  are  too  good  in  that  already  !  You  are  to  abhor  evil.  Ah ! 
there  are  hundreds  of  men  that  know  how  to  hate  men  where  there 
is  one  that  knows  how  to  love  a  man  and  hate  evil.  Because  evil  is 
offensive  to  God,  because  it  is  repugnant  to  the  innate  delicacy  of 
every  moral  sentiment,  because  it  wastes  you,  because  it  wastes  your 
neighbor,  because  it  is  hurtful  to  society,  because  every  benevolent 
instinct  requires  that  you  should  hate  that  which  is  the  common  foe 
of  all  mankind,  therefore  you  should  hate  evil. 

The  evil,  then,  which  we  are  to  hate,  may,  in  extreme  cases,  be- 
come so  wrought  into,  twined  round  about  individual  persons — they 
may  become,  in  some  sense,  such  types  of  the  evil  which  we  must 
abhor — that  we  scarcely  can  distinguish  the  one  from  the  other,  and 
let  the  man  go  free,  while  the  evil  is  hated  ;  but  ordinarily  it  is  not 
so.     Usually  we  can  separate  between  the  one  and  the  other. 

We  are  to  hate  all  crimes  against  men  and  society.  Crimes  are 
the  evils  which  men  commit  against  society  in  its  organized  capa- 
city. Whether  these  be  Avithin  the  express  letter  of  the  law  or  not, 
whether  they  be  disreputable  in  the  greater  measure  or  in  the  less,  is 
quite  immaterial.  We  are  to  hate  crimes  because  they  work  mis- 
chief to  society.  There  is  this  benevolent  reason  and  motive  for  it. 
We  are  to  hate  all  vices,  whether  they  be  bare,  vulgar,  obvious,  or 
whether  they  be  fashionable,  polished,  and  insidious.  We  are  to  hate 
vices,  which  are  the  crimes  that  men  commit  against  society  in  its  un- 
organized capacity — that  is,  against  its  social  purity  and  safety.  As 
crimes  are  evils  against  the  organized  forms  of  society,  so  vices  are 
evils  against  the  unorganized  forms  of  society ;  and  we  are  to  hate 
both  of  them  for  the  same  reason  ;  and  we  are  to  hate  them  without 
any  distinction  except  the  distinctions  which  come  from  their  relative 
mischievousness. 

We  are  also  to  hate  all  qualities  and  actions  which  corrujit  the  in- 
dividual ;  which  injure  manhood  in  man  ;  all  that  creates  sorrow  or 
suffering,  or  tends  to  do  it.  In  short,  we  are  to  take  our  beginning 
in  the  law  of  God  ;  and,  being  filled  with  good-v,-ill  toward  every  liv- 
ing creature,  that  spirit  breathing  itself  like  summer  throughout,  we 


ABHORRENCE  OF  EVIL.  131 

are  to  hate,  come  from  what  quarter  it  may,  m-\j  thing  that  injures  so- 
ciety, that  injures  men  in  the  mass,  or  that  injures  men  in  tlieir  indi- 
vidual capacity.  Whether  it  he  in  their  bodies,  their  souls,  or  their 
estate,  whatever  works  mischief  to  mankind,  you  are  to  be  its 
enemy. 

The  want  of  this  moral  rebound,  and  of  this  indignation,  will  be 
found  to  be  ruinous.  The  presence  of  it  is  wholesome.  The  absence 
of  it  is  effeminating.  It  destroys  the  individual  in  whom  it  is  lackinf>-, 
and  it  is  mischievous  to  the  community  in  Avhich  it  is  lacking. 

Hatred  of  evil  is  em2:)loyed  by  God  as  one  of  those  penalties  by 
which  evil  is  made  to  suifer  in  such  a  way  that  it  is  intimidated  and 
restrained.  It  makes  evil  hazardous.  And  as  those  that  most  freely 
commit  evil  are  low  doAvn  both  in  organization  and  in  moral  sensi- 
bility— as  they  are  more  assailable  by  fear  and  by  pain  than  by  any 
other  motive — so  God  more  abundantly  provides  this  motive  to  those 
who  are  in  this  lower  grade  of  development.  In  a  community  wliere 
men  can  do  as  they  j^lease,  wickedness  is  bolder ;  it  goes  through 
more  phases  of  development.  It  lacks,  perhaps,  some  of  the  elements 
of  malignancy  which  develop  themselves  in  communities  where  it  is 
rejjressed  and  provoked  and  irritated.  But  wickedness  goes,  on  the 
whole,  to  great  lengths  and  depths  w^here  it  is  not  checked  and  re- 
strained by  the  free  and  continuous  expression  of  the  indignation  of 
good  men.  And  this  kind  of  diffusive  judgment,  this  tribunal  which 
God  erects  in  every  man's  bosom,  is  one  of  the  natural  powers  and 
restraints.  Selfishness  is  hateful;  and  if  men  express  their  hatred  of 
it,  selfish  men  are  afraid  to  be  as  selfish  as  they  want  to  be.  Pride  is 
unlovely ;  and  if  true  men  frown  ujDon  it,  and  meet  it  with  moral  re- 
sistance, there  is  a  powerful  motive  brought  to  bear  upon  the  proud 
to  keep  their  pride  within  restraint.  Corrupt  passions — the  lava  of 
the  soul,  which  overflows  w^ith  desolating  and  destroying  power  at 
times  in  communities — are  greatly  restrained  by  intimidations,  by 
the  threat  of  men's  faces,  and  by  the  thunder  of  men's  souls. 

Abhorrence  is  indispensable  to  the  purity  of  a  man's  own  self  who 
is  in  the  midst  of  a  "  perverse  and  crooked  generation."  I  do  not 
believe  any  man  can  avoid  the  formation  of  feeling,  and  to  a  certain 
extent  the  expression  of  it,  and  maintain  himself  incorrupt.  It  is  un- 
natural. What  would  you  give  for  a  man's  humanity  Avho  could 
stand  by  and  see  a  little  boy  deliberately  tortured,  and  maintain  a 
sweet  and  smiling  face,  and  perfect  ecpianimity,  saying,  "It  is  neither 
my  child,  nor  the  child  of  any  body  tliat  I  know  any  thing  about;" 
and  saying,  "  It  is  Avrong  ;  I  suppose  it  is  wrong;  but  there  is  no  use 
of  being  excited  about  it "  ?  What  would  you  think  of  a  man  that 
could  stand  and  look  upon  wickedness  and  not  feel  all  his  nature  re- 
bound at  it  ?     You  can  not  see  a  man  steal  (provided  it  is  not  your- 


132  ABHOBBENGE   OF  EVIL. 

self!)  without  tlie  utmost  horror.  You  never  see  a  mean  thing  clone 
(if  it  is  only  done  by  another)  without  some  sensibility  in  regard  to  it. 

Xow,  the  expressions  of  these  feelings  are,  by  reaction,  the  modes 
in  which  moral  sense,  the  repugnance  to  wickedness,  to  evil,  is 
strengthened.  And  if  you,  for  any  reason,  forbear  to  give  expression 
to  the  feeling,  it  goes  out  for  want  of  expression.  It  is  like  fire  that 
is  smothered.  And  the  man  who  is  so  extremely  prudent  that  he 
never  does  give  utterance  to  his  feelings  of  indignation  against  great 
wrongs,  is  a  man  that  emasculates  himself;  and  he  becomes  a  moral 
eunuch.  A  man  is  not  worthy  of  the  name  of  man  who  has  no  power 
of  indignation.  A  man  is  not  worthy  of  beiug  ranked  in  the  roll  of 
manhood  who  does  not  know  how  to  issue  soul-thunder. 

The  feeling,  and  suitable  expression,  of  indignation,  then,  is  not 
only  salutary  as  a  mode  of  penalty,  and  of  restraint  to  the  wickedness 
of  society,  but  it  is  quite  indispensable,  also,  to  the  moral  purity  of 
the  individual,  the  spectator,  himself.  It  is  one  of  those  exercises  by 
which  the  very  moral  sense  itself,  the  judge  and  test  of  all  things 
right  or  wrong,  is  kept  in  tone. 

There  are  a  great  many  Avays,  if  one  is  curious,  and  looks  into  life, 
by  which  we  can  tamper  with  this  judge  and  condemner  which  God 
puts  in  us  for  our  own  good  and  for  the  good  of  our  fellow-men.  We 
see  men  tampering  with  this  feeling  where  they  are  led  to  look  with 
favor  upon  evil  on  account  of  the  association  with  it  of  extrinsic  fine 
qualities.  There  are  a  great  many  men  that  hate  a  blundering,  stum- 
bling lie.  That  same  lie,  if  it  be  told  with  exquisite  dexterity,  quite 
excites  their  admiration,  and  they  forget  to  hate  it,  they  admire  the 
method  of  it  so  much.  If  an  artless,  blundering  boy  stupidly  lies, 
they  give  him  thixnder ;  but  if  that  boy's  master,  with  unexpected  re- 
finement and  subtlety,  explodes  at  last  a  lie  that  is  original  in  all  its 
methods,  people  say,  "  It  was  a  lie ;  but  was  it  not  admirable  ?"  Fine 
art  in  lying  takes  away  our  abhoi'rence  of  it. 

So  men  are  accustomed  to  express  indignation  when  things  that 
are  wicked  are  vulgar.  A  thing  that  in  its  stark-nakedness  men 
would  turn  blushing  away  from,  they  will  look  upon  with  an  iinblush- 
ing  face  and  with  eifrontery  if  you  only  put  the  thin  guise  of  wit 
over  it.  The  most  hateful  evil  in  the  world  is  the  evil  that  dresses 
itself  in  such  a  way  that  men  can  not  hate  it.  This  is  the  harlotry 
of  wickedness.  "Why,  the  very  men  that  make  wickedness  beautiful 
are  the  most  utterly  to  be  hated.  When  an  old  heathen  like  Horace 
sings  of  love  in  such  a  way  as  to  corrupt  the  very  notion  of  love,  we 
may  find  some  argument  of  compassion  in  the  fact  that  he  was  a  hea- 
then ;  but  when  Henry  Heine,  with  extraordinary  wit,  and  most  ex- 
traordinary wickedness,  defiles,  with  his  fine  touches,  the  very  inte- 
rior nerve  and  nature  of  love,  one  can  not  find  indignation  enough  to 


ABHOBBENCE  OF  EVIL.  133 

visit  on  such  a  wretch  and  such  a  miscreant.  If  vice  would  make  it- 
self tolerable,  it  asks  art  to  embellish  it ;  and  as  soon  as  art  embellish- 
es it,  then  the  place  of  orgies  and  dissipations,  the  jDlace  of  boundless 
corruptions,  the  place  where  deceits  and  cheatings  are  organized, 
spreads  tables  with  munificence.  And  because  these  things  are  in- 
vested with  blushing  beauty,  and  because  they  are  surrounded  by 
glittering  gold  and  silver  furniture,  men  call  them  less  than  wicked. 
They  are  si/jijer-wicked.  They  are  wicked  not  only  in  proportion  as 
they  are  malignant,  but  just  in  proportion  as  they  seek  to  make 
themselves  seem  innocent  by  their  embellishments. 

Now,  we  are  not  to  allow  our  taste  to  beguile  us.  "We  are  not 
to  forget  the  exercise  of  the  sacred  function  of  abhorrence  of  evil 
because  things  are  dressed  out  so  witchingly,  so  disguisedly,  that 
they  seem  beautiful  when  they  should  seem  wicked. 

Men  lose  the  sense  of  evil,  too,  on  account  of  a  spurious  charity 
which  they  use  to  cover  wickedness  withal.  For  men  have  an  im- 
pression that  every  body  ought  to  be  charitable,  and  that  to  be  chari- 
table is,  on  the  whole,  nine  tenths  of  religion.  There  is  a  real  charity 
that  covereth  a  multitude  of  sins.  I  wish  it  were  more  exercised. 
Never  is  it  more  exercised  than  by  those  that  chastise  the  sin.  It 
is  charity  to  blame  wickedness.  It  is  charity  to  pursue  it  with 
punishment  and  penalty  until  it  reforms.  He  is  not  tlie  chari- 
table physician  that,  seeing  gangrene  in  the  limb,  refuses  to 
take  off  the  limb;  he  is  the  charitable  physician  that,  with 
knife  and  saw,  gives  pain  in  order  to  save  life.  There  is  a  charity 
which  assumes  that  avoiding  pain  and  giving  pleasure  is  chari- 
table ;  and  it  assumes  that  what  gives  pain  for  the  sake  of 
moral  purification  is  uncharitable.  This  is  sj)urious  charity.  And 
yet,  how  many  times  do  we  hear  men,  when  great  wickedness  is  com- 
mitted in  the  nation,  or  in  the  community,  or  by  individuals,  and 
men's  tongues  are  set  loose,  begin  to  jjity  and  to  palliate !  To  be 
sure,  we  should  seek  to  spare  the  evil-doer  as  far  as  the  ends  of 
public  justice  will  jDcrmit  us  to  do  it ;  but  then,  we  may,  in  attempt- 
ing to  do  that,  overstep  the  mark,  and  seek  to  save  the  individual  in 
such  a  manner  as  shall  destroy  the  community.  This  is  the  tendency 
of  all  that  kind  of  talk  that  pities  criminals.  Great  crimes  liave  been 
committed;  and  men  say,  "If  we  only  knew;"  "The  circumstances 
being  considered ;"  "  We  do  not  know ;"  "  If  we  were  only  in  their 
place."  That  does  very  well  for  the  man  ;  but  where  is  the  indig- 
nation? Where  is  the  testimony  of  an  honest  man  against  fraud  ? 
A  man,  in  whose  hands  great  pecuniary  trusts  have  been  committed, 
is  guilty  of  some  astounding  wickedness,  and  instantly  there  is  a  burst 
of  indignation.  Then  come  forth  advocates  of  charity,  who  say,  "  We 
ought  not  to  pursue  this  man.    We  ought  not  to  call  hard  names." 


134  ABHORRENCE  OF  EVIL. 

We  ought  to  be  humane,  it  is  true ;  "but  we  ought  to  thunder  some- 
where !  Or,  are  we  to  let  these  crimes  go  for  the  sake  of  what  is 
called  charity  ?  A  thousand  families  are  pierced  with  unexpected 
anf>-uish;  a  thousand  widows  are  made  poor;  the  stream  that  sup- 
plied a  thousand  orj)han  mouths  is  poisoned  or  dried  up ;  there  is  a 
wide-reaching  mischief  that  has  gone  out  from  one  man's  dishonesty 
and  defection ;  and  shall  there  be  no  memorial,  shall  there  be  no  wit- 
ness set  up,  by  which  men  shall  be  deterred  hereafter  from  doing  such 
great  wickednesses?  Shall  a  thousand,  and  ten  thousand,  suffer? 
and  shall  you  find  ingenious  palliations  for  the  mischief-maker,  but  no 
commiseration  for  those  that  suifer  ?  We  have  had  enough  of  that 
charity.  Our  communities  are  growing  old  and  hoary  in  transgres- 
sion because  there  has  not  been  a  lightning  stroke  of  indignation 
visiting  the  transgressors. 

Social  connections  oftentimes  lead  men  to  forget  the  force  of  true 
and  Christian  indignation  against  evil.  Nobody,  I  suppose,  can  help 
being  indignant  as  long  as  wickedness  is  right  before  his  senses. 
Any  thing  that  our  senses  can  take  hold  of,  we  are  generally  true  to  ; 
but  we  have  very  little  sense  of  the  invisible.  Therefore  the  moment 
time  has  somewhat  abated  the  vivid  sense  of  the  evil  committed,  the 
moment  it  is  removed  a  little  from  our  inspection,  there  begin  to 
grow  up  in  our  minds  other  considerations. 

A  man  has  burned  his  neighbor's  house,  and  he  has  been  convicted ; 
and,  having  lain  in  jail  a  year,  he  is  to  be  sent  to  prison ;  and  in- 
stantly the  community  swarms  with  petitions  for  the  remission  of  the 
penalty ;  and,  "  poor  fellow,"  they  begin  to  talk  about  his  having 
been  already  punished,  and  about  the  misfortunes  of  his  education. 
There  are  a  thousand  pities  expressed  that  the  man  who  only  burned 
down  his  neighbor's  house  should  be  "  sent  up."  And  so  men  begin 
to  plead  for  a  relaxation  of  the  sentence. 

If  a  man  has  committed  a  murder — foul  it  may  be,  and  deliberate 
— he  is  sent  to  the  penitentiarj'-  for  a  term  of  years,  (no  thanks  to  the 
judge !)  and  instantly,  if  he  have  social  connections,  if  he  have  stand- 
ing in  the  commimity — that  is  to  say,  if  he  have  the  power  to  influence 
votes — there  begins  to  be  a  movement  in  his  behalf.  Men  forget  the 
crime — they  forget  the  atrociousness  of  the  evil,  on  account  of  his 
connections  and  his  influence,  and  begin  to  supplicate  that  his  penal- 
ties may  be  remitted.  I  have  had  men  approach  me,  pleading,  "  This 
man  has  committed  murder ;  but  then,  he  is  married  to  a  very  ami- 
able and  lovely  wife,  and  he  has  five  beautiful  children,  and  his 
venerable  and  gray-haired  old  father  is  going  down  in  sorrow  to  the 
grave,  and  his  mother  is  heart-broken ;"  and  one  does  feel  as  though 
these  were  motives  for  mercy.  But  how  is  it  with  the  man  that  he 
has  murdered  ?    Had  not  he  a  wif3  ?  and  had  not  he  children  ?  and 


ABHORRENCE  OF  EVIL.  135 

had  not  he  a  flither  and  a  mother  ?  And  are  there  not  other  hearts 
sufferhig  in  tliis  matter  ?  Those  are  conveniently  forgotten.  It  is 
only  the  hero  that  is  thought  about,  and  his  social  connections.  And 
so  men,  by  a  perverted  sympathy  with  those  that  are  socially  con- 
nected with  the  malefactor,  are  led  to  palliate,  to  hide,  at  any  rate 
to  forbear  the  expression  of  indignation  against  evil. 

Still  worse  is  it  where  self-interest  hinders  it.  Self-interest  is  one 
of  the  great  perverters  of  the  conscience  and  of  the  heart.  There  are 
a  great  many  men  whose  self-interest  does  not  show  itself  in  pecu- 
niary ways,  or  ways  of  ambition ;  but  they  are  hving  in  the  com- 
munity where  it  is  their  wish  not  to  have  any  trouble.  As  the  Ten 
Commandments  are  all,  "  Thou  shalt  not,"  so  there  are  a  great  many 
men  who  seem  to  think  that  all  the  duties  of  life  are  summed  uj)  in, 
"  Thou  shalt  not  do  evil."  So  that  they  only  keep  themselves  from 
doing  evil,  they  think  they  have  no  other  duties  to  perform;  and  their 
ambition  is  to  go  softly  through  life ;  to  get  into  no  quarrel  with 
any  body,  not  to  be  mixed  up  in  any  public  matters.  If  there  is  an 
evil  committed,  they  declare,  "  "Well,  I  did  not  do  it ; "  and  they  say 
to  their  household,  "  It  is  not  our  business ;  our  business  is  not  to 
have  any  tiling  to  do  with  this  matter  in  any  way  whatevei*."  They 
want  to  go  so  carefully  and  so  securely  that  not  once  shall  they  feel 
called  upon  to  abhor  any  thing. 

I  have  heard  it  said  of  men  that  they  died  and  had  not  an  enemy. 
Well,  they  ought  to  have  died  a  great  while  before  !  For  a  man 
.that  is  true,  a  man  that  knows  how,  with  holy  horror,  to  rebuke 
wickedness,  finds  enough  of  it  to  do  in  this  world.  Has  a  man  lived 
forty  or  fifty  or  sixty  years?  and  has  he  never  rebuked  a  wicked  man 
enough  to  make  that  man  hate  him,  so  that  you  can  put  on  his  tomb^ 
"  He  has  not  left  an  enemy  "  ?  Why,  I  could  put  that  on  a  cabbage- 
field  !  What  kind  of  a  patriot  and  soldier  would  he  be,  who,  com- 
ing out  of  the  three  drenched  days  of  Gettysburg,  should  be  able  to 
go  home  and  sny,  "  I  never  hi;rt  any  body !"  For  what  were  you 
enlisted  ?  for  Avhat  were  you  sent  there  ?  Did  not  God  call  you  into 
his  army?  and  are  you  not  sworn  to  hate  the  Lord's  enemies,  and 
make  them  yours?  And  yet,  you  go  through  the  whole  of  your  life, 
and  at  last  die  and  leave  fools  behind  you  to  say,  "  He  never  had  an 
enemy  !" 

There  is  another  form  In  which  self-interest  interi^oses  between 
the  feeling  and  expression  of  indignation,  where  a  man's  afiairs  are 
interrupted  by  it.  How  often  do  Ave  see  acts  committed  near  to  us 
that  bring  out  at  first  a  resenting  expression.  But  the  man  that  to- 
day is  so  determined  to  rectify  wrong,  if  you  go  to  him  to-morrow, 
will  have  reconsidei-ed  the  subject,  and  will  say,  "  It  is  not  worth 
our  while  to  proceed,  now  that  our  business  is  related  to  that  matter. 


136  ABHORRENCE  OF  EVIL. 

If  we  speak  of  this  thing,  it  will  strike  right  across  our  interests.  It 
is  not  for  us  to  do  it.  Let  justice  take  its  own  course.  We  must  con- 
sult our  welfare."  And  so  men  will  let  monstrous  wickedness  go  be- 
cause its  exposure  would  affect  their  business.  They  are  bribed  by 
their  self-interest. 

If  a  man  knows  of  a  crime,  and  he  is  visited  by  a  neighbor,  and  a 
thousand  dollars  are  put  into  his  hand,  and  his  hand  is  shut  upon  it,  and 
it  is  said  to  him,  "  Now,  let  your  mouth  be  as  closely  shut  as  your 
hand  is,  and  do  not  you  speak,"  he  is  bribed,  is  he  not  ?  And  he  is 
bribed  to  hold  his  j^eace,  is  he  not  ?  And  you  hate  him  and  the  act,  do 
you  not  ?  Now,  when  your  store  comes  up  and  says,  "  I  know  that  that 
is  abominable,  but  a  thousand  dollars  this  year  depends  on  your  holding 
your  tongue — does  not  your  store  bribe  you,  does  not  your  business 
bribe  you,  just  as  much  as  though  you  had  been  bribed  by  an  indi- 
vidual man  ?  That  is  a  mean  man  who  will  allow  self-interest  in 
commercial  affairs  to  prevent  the  honest  exj^ression  of  his  indignation 
against  crime.     Let  fly,  and  take  the  consequences  ! 

Where  a  class-si^irit  in  society,  where  sectarianism  in  religion, 
where  party  spirit  in  politics,  keep  men  silent  in  regard  to  evil 
things  that  are  done  in  these  respective  spheres,  we  sec  again  how 
men's  self-interest  bribes  them  to  silence.  It  is  true  that  there  is  an 
honorable  reticence  in  the  househoLl,  and  that  there  is  an  honorable 
reticence  in  the  church,  particularly  in  regard  to  mere  faults.  He 
would  be  a  poor  parent  or  a  poor  brother  Avho  should  go  out  of  the 
house  to  proclaim  the  ordinary  failings  and  foibles  of  the  household.. 
And  in  churches  there  is  a  large  place  for  silence,  and  covering  up 
one  another's  faults.  But  here  is  a  man  who  is  a  member  of  your 
church,  and  he  is  as  greedy  as  death,  he  is  inexorable  in  his  avarice, 
he  is  carrying  his  life  so  that  it  burns  on  every  side  like  a  flame 
other  men's  prosperities ;  and  you  know  it,  and  see  it ;  but  you  never 
speak  about  it ;  and  when  other  men  sj)eak  of  it,  you  say,  "  Oh ! 
tut,  tut,  tut !"  You  hide  it  and  cover  it  up.  Do  you  consider  that 
that  is  discharging  your  duty  to  God  ?  Or,  the  same  is  true  where 
men  commit  the  most  flagrant  and  damnable  crimes  in  j^olitics,  and 
they  are  on  our  side,  and  you  get  the  election  by  it.  If  there  is  any 
place  in  which  you  ought  to  be  more  indignant  than  another,  it  is 
where  a  man  in  your  church  violates  the  very  sanctities  of  manhood ; 
or  where  a  man  on  your  side  insults  every  honest  man  in  your  party 
by  doing  monstrous  wickednesses.  And  yet,  the  sjoirit  of  the  world 
is  to  cover  up  evil,  pi'ovided  it  is  in  our  sect  or  party  or  class  in  society. 

This  whole  affair  of  the  bribery  of  conscience  is  most  pitiable, 
and  oftentimes  most  cowardly  in  its  exhibitions.  It  is  particularly 
so  when  those  who  are  set  to  expose  wickedness  and  make  it  hateful 
before  men  wrap  it  up  in  soft  words. 


ABHORRENCE   OF  EVIL.  \Z7 

Ever  since  I  have  been  a  man,  until  within  the  last  ten  years,  a 
most  gigantic  wickedness,  that  included  in  itself  the  violation  of 
every  humanity,  of  every  canon  of  righteousncs?,  existed  throughout 
one  half  of  this  great  republic;  and  the  pulpit,  which  is  set  to  discern 
between  right  and  wrong,  between  good  and  evil,  between  light 
and  darkness,  maintained  itself  in  this  nation  in  its  most  I'espectable 
form,  and  in  eminent  places,  without  there  being  expressed,  to  any 
considerable  degree,  one  word  of  indignation.  Nay,  in  the  greater 
number  of  churches  in  this  land — churches  that  God  made  to  be  his 
very  mouthj^ieces ;  in  pulpits  where  God  meant  that  his  word  should 
be  spoken,  whether  men  would  hear  or  forbear,  and  where  fiery 
indignation,  as  from  the  heart  of  God,  should  have  scorched  and 
burned  to  ashes  injustice  and  ruthless  wickedness — in  these  places 
how  piteous  and  cowardly  is  the  spectacle!  And  what  a  sad  chap- 
ter in  history — that  thei'e  was  almost  no  testimony,  with  the 
exception  of  here  and  there  in  obscure  pulpits,  and  none  in  the 
midst  of  this  great  wickedness,  borne  against  it !  But  now  that  the 
wickedness  is  crushed,  and  it  is  fashionable,  the  jjulpit  is  open  and 
loud-mouthed  in  condemning  slavery.  Every  body  now  can  preach 
emancij)ation.  Xow,  the  only  danger  of  the  men  who  preach  is  that 
they  will  go  indiscriminately  to  the  other  extreme.  But  how  cow- 
ardly they  have  shown  themselves  to  be  !  If  ever,  let  a  man  bom- 
bard a  fort  Avhen  it  has  power  to  resist  his  attacks.  I  would  not 
run  after  wickedness  when  it  is  down,  but  when  it  is  up,  and 
loud-mouthed,  baying  and  defiant.  That  is  the  time  to  show  manhood 
and  courage.  If  pulpits  were  what  grossness  wants  them  to  be ;  if 
in  respect  to  lewdness  and  drunkenness  and  dissipation,  they  were 
to  "  preach  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus ;"  if  they  were,  so  to  speak,  with 
wool  to  wrap  up  the  wickedness  of  men ;  if  they  were  to  act  on  the  prin- 
ciple that  their  parishioners  were  not  to  be  annoyed,  and  that  great  pub- 
lic matters  were  not  to  be  disturbed,  and  that  lusts  were  to  have  their 
own  way,  what  would  pulpits  be  good  for  ?  What  are  puljjits  good 
for  that  go  piping  music  over  the  heads  of  men  who  are  guilty  of 
gigantic  transgressions  ?  It  is  a  pitiable  sight  to  see  pulpits  that  are 
so  coAvardly  that  they  do  not  dare  to  call  things  by  their  right 
names.  A  man  had  better  be  a  John,  and  go  into  the  wilderness, 
clothed  in  camel's-hair,  and  eating  locusts  and  wild  honey,  than  to  bo 
a  fat  minister  in  a  •  fat  j^i^^lpit,  supporting  himself  luxuriously  by 
betraying  God  and  playing  into  the  hands  of  the  devil.  ' 

It  is  oftentimes  said  that  such  pulpits  are  savage  and  ferocious. 
My  own  observation  in  life  teaches  me  that  if  there  is  a  man  to  be 
succored,  if  there  is  a  man  whose  vices  and  crimes  have  brought  him 
into  great  sufiering,  the  man  that  is  most  faithful  in  exposing  his 
wrong,  is  the  man  that  will  go  quickest  to  his  side ;  and  he  will 


138  ABEORBENCE    OF  EVIL. 

give  him  more  help  than  the  men  that  are  all  the  time  crying  out, 
"Charity!  charity!"  I  have  never  found  that  these  men  who  are 
so  ready  to  cover  transgressions  with  cries  of  charity^  put  their 
hands  deep  into  their  pockets.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  the  very 
men  that  are  denounced  as  being  severe  and  ferocious,  are  the  men 
that  shed  more  tears  over  those  whom  they  expose  and  punish,  and 
give  more  time,  more  money,  and  more  sympathy,  than  the  men  that 
denounce  them.  If  a  man  is  faithful  toward  God,  you  may  dej)end 
upon  it  that  he  will  be  faithful  toward  his  fellow-men. 

Not  only  are  the  organs  of  public  sentiment,  such  as  the  pulpit, 
cowardly,  but  public  sentiment  itself,  too  often,  is  cowardly.  It  re- 
fuses to  take  high  moral  grounds.     It  refuses  to  be  just  and  earnest. 

I  can  not  but  say  that,  although  to  a  certain  extent  the  evil  is  less 
in  newspapers,  it  is  seen  very  glaringly  there  also.  We  are  not 
deficient  in  newspapers,  which,  when  they  are  angry,  avenge  their 
Ijrejudices  and  passions  with  great  violence.  But  to  be  calm,  to  be 
just,  and  then  without  fear  or  favor,  discriminatingly  but  intensely 
to  mark  and  brand  iniquity,  and  to  defend,  on  the  other  hand, 
righteousness  and  virtue — this  is  to  make  a  newspaper  a  sublime 
power  over  the  community.  Alas  that  there  should  be  so  few  such 
newspapers ! 

I  think  it  high  time  that  we  should  speak  more  frequently  on 
this  subject.  I  think  it  high  time  in  my  own  ministry  that  this 
matter  should  be  reintroduced,  and  brought  again  vividly  to  your 
attention.  The  want  of  indignation  at  flagrant  wickedness  is  one 
of  the  alarming  symptoms  of  our  times.  We  are  living  in  the  midst 
of  an  amount  of  corruption  second  only  to  that  of  Sodom  and 
Gomorrah.  It  seems  as  though  society  must  dissolve,  as  though  it 
must  be  unable  to  cohere  much  longer.  And  the  most  alai-ming 
thing  is  not  the  condition  of  our  pulpits ;  it  is  the  most  absolute 
torpor  of  the  public  conscience.  We  are  in  cities  that  are  full  of 
churches  in  which  the  most  monstrous  ebullitions  of  wickedness 
seem  not  much  to  disturb  the  tranquillity  of  the  house  of  God.  The 
Christianity  of  Xew-York  is  no  match  for  the  depravity  in  that  city. 
And  what  is  true  of  that  city  is  not  untriie  of  many  others.  There 
has  been  a  foir  field,  and  a  fair  conflict ;  and  to-day  the  conscience 
of  New-York  is  overmatched  and  put  down. 

Consider  some  of  the  more  flagrant  and  alarming  tendencies  of 
the  time  which  require  attention  and  public  rebuke.  Consider  to 
what  an  extent  executive  clemency  is  perverted.  lam  not  of  those 
who  think  that  no  culpi'it  should  hope  for  freedom.  If  you  could  but 
see  the  inequalities  of  justice  ;  if  you  could  but  see  how  the  heavier 
sentences  often  rest  upon  the  weaker  men  and  the  less  culpable,  you 
would  see  that  there  was  a  great  field  for  executive  clemency.     But 


ABHOHRENCE  OF  EVIL.  139 

indiscriminate  pardoning,  and  especially  political  pardoning-,  is  an 
evil  that  is  not  simi^ly  a  weakness,  but  that  threatens  to  cut  the  very 
cord  of  justice  itself. 

I  refer  with  especial  rejirobation  to  the  mania  of  Presidential  par- 
doning. It  seems  to  me  (perhaps  I  am  not  as  well  informed  of  the 
fiicts  as  I  might  be  ;  but,  as  far  as  I  can  gather,  it  is  the  certain  road 
to  favor)  that  as  sure  as  a  man  becomes  a  counterfeiter,  or  a  swindler, 
or  an  embezzler,  and  steals  from  the  Post-Office,  or  from  the  Custom- 
House,  or  from  the  Revenue,  and  is  by  any  mistake  of  the  law  caught 
and  held  for  punishment,  so  sure  shall  he  have  the  President's  pardon, 
coming  to  him  as  a  messenger  of  mercy,  and  calling  him  from  his 
confinement,  and  reinstating  him  in  life  again.  And  I  can  not  under- 
stand how  it  is  that  one  or  two  who  have  been  "  sent  up"  from 
Brooklyn  during  the  jDast  year,  have  not  been  pardoned  !  Doubtless, 
if  some  one  would  send  their  names  to  "Washington,  they  would  be 
pardoned  within  a  w^eek  !  Only  be  a  counterfeiter,  only  steal  from 
the  Post-Office  or  Custom-House,  only  defraud  the  Revenue,  and  you 
will  be  granted  immunity!  Is  it  not  a  shame  and  an  outrage?  It 
is  corruption,  the  whole  of  it.  It  is,  in  its  direct  influences,  corrupt- 
ing the  opinions  and  the  moral  sense,  not  of  the  community  at  large 
alone,  but  especially  of  the  yoimg,  mingling  and  confounding  their 
opinions ;  so  that  the  diflerence  between  right  or  wrong,  pain  and 
penalty  or  reward,  is  almost  lost  sight  of 

Consider,  too,  the  gigantic  dishonesties  that  are  taking  place  al- 
most nnrebuked  in  Avhat  I  may  call  the  money-power  of  the  land. 
Do  you  know_  the  nature  of  the  swindles  which  are  taking  j^lace  in 
our  midst  ?  Do  you  know  how  capitalists,  confederated,  are  using 
the  Avhole  community  as  a  sjionge,  and  squeezing  them  at  their  plea- 
sure ?  Crimes  are  committed  in  our  day,  which,  if  they  were  reduc- 
ed to  their  exact  chemical  elements,  would  include  every  shade  of 
crimes  that  are  known  at  Sing  Sing  or  Auburn  ;  and  they  are  com- 
mitted by  great  men,  by  millionaires.  I  do  not  say  that  it  is  my 
business  to  hunt  them  down  ;  but  I  do  say  this  :  that  men  who  walk 
through  our  streets,  and  whom  we  know,  are  guilty  of  committing 
the  most  stupendous  frauds.  They  are  men  whose  palm  ought  not  to 
cross  mine.  They  ought  not  to  be  allowed  to  be  res2:)ectable.  Some- 
where there  ought  to  be  men  who  feel  abhorrence  at  such  things,  and 
who  dare  let  these  men  know  that  they  feel  this  abhorrence.  It  is  not 
enough  for  you  that  you  do  not  do  the  evil.  It  is  not  enough  tliat 
you  cherish  a  secret  indignation  at  it.  Your  lips  sliould  express  ir, 
and  so  far  as  the  2^1'ovidence  of  God  gives  you  opportunity,  you 
should  make  it  known  to  those  who  are  intimatel}^  concerned  in  such 
frauds.  It  is  the  duty  of  every  conspicuous  man,  of  every  truly 
honest  financier,  of  every  upright  business  man,  to  discriminate  in  be- 


140  ABHORRENCE  OF  EVIL. 

half  of  those  whom  he  knows  to  he  honest  and  those  whom  he 
knows  to  he  dishonest,  and  to  make  dishonest  men  tingle.  But  if 
you  let  these  base  men  think  that  you  are  their  friend  ;  if,  Avhen 
they  come  in,  you,  because  they  are  backed  by  such  and  such  influ- 
ence, smile,  and  thank  them  for  the  honor  they  have  bestowed  w^on 
you,  and  ask  them  to  call  again,  and  give  them  reason  to  suppose  that 
you  are  more  than  glad  to  see  them,  and  then,  as  soon  as  they  are  gone, 
say,  "  I  would  not  be  in  that  man's  shoes  for  all  the  world,"  you  are  a 
hypocrite  !  Instead  of  receiving  the  rascals  in  that  manner  to-day,  and 
to-morrow,  and  next  day,  and  letting  every  one  of  your  clerks  see  that 
because  they  have  money  they  are  received,  you  ought  to  strike  them 
with  lightning! 

We  are  not  enough  accustomed  to  be  honest  to  our  convictions. 
We  do  not  use  those  epithets  which  convey  in  them  the  jjower  of 
blasting.  Now  and  then  there  comes  a  man  who  has  a  plain  tongue, 
and  the  whole  community  feels  the  want  of  his  plain  talking  about 
great  wickednesses — so  great  that,  though  the  man  may  be  Aveak  in 
a  thousand  respects,  though  he  may  be  erratic  in  some  j^articulars, 
yet  the  body  politic  crave  that  greatly  deficient  element  of  indigna- 
tion and  plain  speaking  to  such  an  extent,  that  they  will  forgive  him, 
only  so  that  he  will  make  his  tongue  express  their  feeling.  It  is  good 
and  Avholesome. 

When  an  August  day  has  been  lowering,  and  murky,  and  there 
is  no  air  to  be  breathed,  and  every  man  wilts,  by  and  by  there  comes 
a  roaring  thunder-crack  in  the  heavens,  and  the  Avind  swings  from  the 
south  to  the  north,  and  SAveeps  out  all  the  poisoned  air,  and  men  stand 
up  and  say,  "  Bless  God  for  such  a  thunder,  and  for  such  a  storm  !" 

NoAV  and  then  you  come  across  a  robust,  xigly-mouthed  man, 
who  talks,  and  fights,  and  deals  heavy  blows  against  Avickedness  ; 
and  every  body  is  afraid  to  come  near  him ;  but  every  body, 
standing  back,  says, "  Good !  good !  hoAV  it  does  my  soiil  good  to  see 
one  man  that  knoAVS  how  to  give  it  to  them  !"  But  if  you  did  your 
duty,  there  Avould  not  be  such  a  need  of  single  men  to  undertake  this 
Avork.  What  are  called  "  fanatics  "  and  "  extremists  "  are  only  the  men 
that  God  sends  to  make  up  the  general  aA^erage  which  your  unfaith- 
fulness loAvers.  If  you  did  your  duty  individually,  one  by  one, 
more  jaerfectly,  there  Avould  be  no  such  occasion,  and,  therefore, 
there  would  be  no  such  men. 

The  corruption  of  the  franchise  is  another  subject  that  ought  not 
to  pass  without  a  Avord  of  remark.  This  Government  is  built  on  a 
vote.  But  votes  that  are  purchasable  are  quicksands  ;  and  a  govern- 
ment built  on  them  is  built  on  quicksand,  and  can  not  stand.  There 
is  no  more  alarming  feature  to-day  than  the  corruption  of  our  politics, 
beginning  Avith  the  buying  and  selling  of  votes. 


ABHORRENCE   OF  EVIL.  141 

The  scenes  wliich,  if  we  have  not  witnessed  them,  we  are  morally 
certain  transpired  in  these  cities,  within  the  last  fortnight,  are 
enough  to  shock  every  thoughtful  man,  and  to  throw  him  into  con- 
sternation, in  view  of  the  perils  which  hang  over  him.  And  no  man  is 
true  to  God  who,  for  the  sake  of  shielding  his  party,  would  conceal 
such  fraudulent  doings,  or  fail  to  visit  them  with  the  utmost 
indignation  of  expression.  I  am  sorry  to  say  it  is  not  foreign- 
ers. For  the  most  part  they  are  perverted,  and  are  led  as 
sheep  to  the  slaughter;  but  the  engineers  are  native-born — and 
the  more  woe  be  on  them !  It  is  not  the  victim  that  I  feel  most 
incensed  against ;  it  is  not  the  ignorant  man,  that  is  managed ;  it  is 
the  trig  and  snug  man  who  tMnlcs,  but  never  dirties  his  hand  with  the 
final  iniquity,  and  who  sits  in  his  embellished  house  and  concocts  the 
mischief.  His  agent  touches  another  agent,  and  that  agent  touches 
a  third  agent,  away  out  there.  But  these  various  agents  are  not 
most  responsible  for  the  wickedness.  The  man  here,  that  started  it, 
is  the  culprit ;  and  he  ought  to  be  made  to  feel,  no  matter  how  high 
he  is,  or  where  he  goes,  the  scathing  indignation  of  an  incensed 
public  conscience.  Talk  about  patriotism  !  Men  are  jiroclaiming 
sentiments  that  have  in  them  something  to  draw  the  popular  ap- 
plause, while  at  the  same  time  moths  are  cutting  the  very  gar- 
ments of  justice,  and  thieves  are  breaking  in  to  steal,  and  miners  are 
taking  away  the  ground  from  under  the  foundations  of  national  life ! 
What  is  their  patriotism  worth  ? 

We  might  expect  that  the  next  stage  of  this  corruption  would  be 
found  in  the  legislative  halls,  I  am  sick  when  I  think  of  it.  The 
legislatures  of  these  United  States  are  so  generally  corrupt  that 
those  which  are  not  corrupt  are  the  exceptions.  I  do  not  think  I 
slander  when  I  say  that  the  general  rule  to-day  in  legislatures  is  bri- 
bery— buying  and  selling.  I  do  not  mean  that  men  consult  each 
others'  interests.  I  do  not  mean,  in  other  words,  that  what  is  called 
in  the  West  "log-rolling"  prevails  merely,  and  that  men  openly  and 
undisguisedly  buy  and  sell,  but  that  men  form  plans  or  rules,  in 
which  all  public  interests  are  bought  and  sold.  Bribery  and 
corruption  the  most  profound,  the  most  atrocious,  and  apparently  in- 
creasing, is  in  our  legislatures.  And  that  is  not  the  Avorst  of  it.  It  is 
known  in  every  town  and  every  county  that  the  next  legislature  will 
be  as  bad  as  the  one  that  went  before  it,  and  it  is  denounced  accord- 
ingly. When  the  Republican  goes  down,  and  the  Democratic  comes 
up,  it  is  just  as  bad ;  and  vice  versa.  Whichever  party  goes  to  Al- 
bany, it  is  all  the  same.  Men  are  about  alike  after  being  dissolved 
in  that  caldron.  If  they  go  there  honest,  they  are  sure  to  come  back 
corrupted — such  is  the  subtle  nature  of  the  disease  wliich  rages  there. 

Kow,  there  ought  to  be  a  public  sentiment  such  that,  when  a  man 


143  ABHOMRJEJS'CE   OF  EVIL. 

comes  home  to  his  constitiients,  if  he  is  known  to  be  a  bribed  man, 
he  shall  be  blasted  by  the  fire  of  their  indignation  ;  but  there  is  no 
snch  public  sentiment,  and  Avheu  he  retm-us,  he  settles  down  disturbed 
by  no  one.  lie  is  an  elder  in  the  church.  Will  his  minister  say  a 
■word  ?  iN'ot  a  word.  Will  his  brother  elder  say  a  word  ?  Xot  a 
syllable.  It  is  said,  in  the  neighborhood,  "  He  has  greased  his  hands 
a  little  ;  but  then  he  has  money  ;  he  is  a  man  of  influence."  It  may 
be  that  some  rival  will  charge  him  with  corruption ;  and  these  men 
that  know  the  charge  is  true  Avill  smooth  it  over  and  say,  "  That  man 
is  running  against  him,  and  of  course  he  will  say  any  thing."  They 
know  that  the  man  is  corrupt  and  corruptible;  and  yet  he  will  not 
lose  his  standing  in  the  church ;  he  will  not  lose  his  standing  in  the 
presbytery;  he  Avill  not  lose  his  standing  in  the  class,  if  he  be  class- 
leader,  lie  will  be  just  as  much  courted  and  invited ;  he  will  be  just 
as  well  spoken  to  as  ever,  however  he  may  be  spoken  of.  You  may 
backbite  him  a  little,  but  you  will  not  /o?-t;bite  him  at  all.  So  that 
while  we  are  denouncing  legislatures,  remember  that  legislatures  are 
made  up  of  your  representatives.  If  a  man  that  goes  from  Brooklyn 
is  a  corrupt  and  buyable  man,  it  is  in  part  because  I  am  corrupt,  un- 
less I  clean  my  skirts,  and  throw  my  whole  influence  against  him, 
and  am  a  witness  against  him.  Then  I  am  not  represented  by  him. 
But  every  one  of  you  mute-mouthed  voters,  you  who  do  not  like  to 
go  out  to  primaries,  who  would  rather  have  nothing  to  do  witli 
politics,  and  who  do  not  choose  to  fill  up  your  life  by  doing  your 
duty — you  are  every  one  of  you  represented  by  that  corruption.  If 
you  send  a  villain  to  Albany  to  represent  you,  he  does  represent  you  ! 
I  would  that  it  stopped  even  here;  but  corruption  has  gone  still 
higher.  The  last  refuge  of  justice  is  in  our  courts ;  and  yet,  so  cor- 
rupt are  oiir  courts  become  that  the  name  oi  tTiulge  stinks  !  There  is 
nothing  that  excites  my  indignation  more.  There  is  no  treachery 
that  is  so  base.  There  is  nothing  that  I  forgive  myself  so  unwill- 
ingly for  as  for  meeting  a  corrupt  judge  and  not  frowning  upon  him 
— yea,  and  striking  him !  Xot  but  that  they  are  subjects  of  mercy ; 
but  if  there  was  only  some  man  holding  the  relation  of  parent,  that 
could  take  some  of  these  sturdy  judges  and  renew  the  scenes  of  their 
youth,  I  should  heartily  rejoice !  They  plunder,  and  are  known  to 
plunder.  They  make  decisions,  and  hold  them  up  for  sale.  Tliey 
make  auctions  of  justice,  and  among  the  seekers  of  justice  they  bid 
for  bribers  !  And  what  then "?  They  are  elected  again  to  the  su- 
preme bench,  or  to  the  circuit  courts.  They  are  elected  because 
they  are  corrupt.  There  are  a  few  men  that  mutter,  and  say,  "  Too 
bad !  too  bad  I"  but  that  is  the  whole  of  it.  And  our  courts  are 
growing  more  and  more  corrupt,  and  otir  judges  more  and  more  in- 
famous. 


ABHORRENCE   OF  EVIL.  143 

When,  two  years  ago,  I  made  some  such  attack  as  this,  I  was  writ- 
leu  to  with  great  indignation  by  a  very  young  man,  the  son  of  a  very 
old  judge,  on  account  of  it.  I  was  glad  of  that.  I  wish  that  some 
judge's  son  would  write  me  a  letter  to-morrow.  It  would  be  a  sign 
of  some  conscience  left,  of  some  faint  reminiscence  of  honor.  But  it 
will  not  be  so.  They  are  just  like  putty  ;  and  if  you  dent  them,  the 
dent  stays  !  It  will  produce  no  effect  upon  them.  And  not  because 
I  am  not  worthy  of  notice — I  am  worthy  of  notice  ;  for  my  words  will 
go  into  the  newspapers,  and  will  be  read,  and  it  will  be  known  that 
these  judges  are  corrupt,  and  they  will  be  made  conspicuous,  as  being 
leagued  together.  And  if  there  are  any  honest  men  among  them, 
they  have  the  opportunity  of  coming  out  and  clearing  their  skirts, 
that  they  may  not  divide  the  responsibility  with  their  infamous  com- 
panions ;  but  they  will  not  do  it.  They  may  murmur  at  me ;  they 
may  revile  me.  It  does  not  hurt  me  at  all.  But  these  words  will 
stick  upon  them,  and  will  be  blown  abroad,  and  it  will  be  known  by 
men  that  judges  are  proverbially  corrupt;  yet  it  will  not  make  any 
difference.  Why  ?  Because  they  are  lost  to  sentiments  of  rectitude. 
This  is  a  community  so  low  in  moral  tone  that  there  is  no  indigna- 
tion left.  Enough  to  make  you  think,  enough  to  make  a  murmur, 
perhaps  in  a  whisjDer,  one  with  another ;  but  there  ought  to  be  a  feel- 
ing of  indignation  that  shall  rise  up  like  fire  in  the  prairies,  and  con- 
sume the  vermin  that  nestle  in  all  the  rotting  growths  thereof. 

I  tell  you,  we  are  more  in  danger  now  at  home  from  the  corrup- 
tion among  the  constituency  in  moneyed  circles,  from  the  vast  plans 
that  set  at  naught  justice  and  truth  and  honesty  and  rectitude,  than 
from  all  the  iniquity  by  which  our  most  sacred  usages,  laws,  and 
customs  are  being  destroyed — by  which  our  very  magistrates  them- 
selves are  hurled  from  their  high  duties — and  by  which  our  very 
courts  of  justice  are  eaten  to  the  very  core  by  corrui^tion.  We  are 
in  more  danger  from  these  things  than  from  any  foreign  enemy. 

We  were  once  in  danger  of  being  overwhelmed  by  slavery.  I 
used  to  think  that  slavery  was  our  greatest  danger.  It  was  a  vast 
danger.  But  to-day  money  is  our  danger,  and  the  corrujjtion  that 
follows  money. 

It  is  not  enough  for  a  man  to  put  on  his  bib  and  tucker  and  say 
his  catechism.  You  have  got  more  to  do  than  to  say  your  cate- 
chism. You  have  got  a  testimony  to  make.  You  have  got  to  culti- 
vate the  feeling  that  loves  purity,  and  hates  imiDurity ;  that  loves 
truth,  and  hates  lies  ;  that  loves  justice,  and  abhors  injustice  ;  that 
loves  clean  hands,  and  abhors  bribery  ;  that  loves  rectitude,  and  ab- 
hors treachery,  whether  it  come  in  one  form  or  another.  There  has 
got  to  be  a  time  of  revival  in  the  church.  I  like  revivals  of  religion 
that  make  men  spiritually  new  men ;  but  oh !  we  want  another  kind 


144  ABHOBBENCE  OF  EVIL. 

of  revival  to-day.  We  want  a  revival  in  God's  cbiivcli  that  shall 
make  men  bear  witness  at  least  to  morality,  let  alone  si^irituality.  It 
is  time  that  the  judgment  should  begin  at  the  house  of  God ;  and 
then,  what  shall  the  end  of  those  be  who  are  so  far  away  from 
Zion? 

Friends  and  brethren,  I  have  borne  my  testimony.  I  have  not 
overstated  any  thing.  I  have  understated  every  thing.  I  have  not 
exaggerated  either  the  corruption  or  the  danger.  It  is  not  less,  it  is 
far  greater  than  I  have  stated  it.  I  have  not  been  extravagant  in 
marking  out  the  line  of  your  duty.  Your  duty  is  greater  than  I 
have  painted  it — not  less. 

And  now,  what  shall  the  result  of  this  testimony  be  ?  In  the  first 
place,  you  must  begin  at  home,  you  must  begin  in  your  own  small  circle, 
to  reform  yourselves  in  the  matter  of  indignation  against  wicked- 
ness. You  must  learn  to  speak  that  which  you  feel.  You  must  be 
known,  by  gesture,  by  expression,  and  by  word,  to  be  wholly  commit- 
ted to  that  which  is  right,  and  against  that  which  is  wrong.  And, 
though  your  influence  may  be  limited  to  a  small  circle,  it  will 
make  itself  felt  beyond  that  circle.  Xo  matter  what  interests  may 
be  involved,  no  matter  what  may  be  the  enmity  or  the  hatred  that  you 
incur,  you  must  be  true  to  your  convictions,  and  you  must  give  them 
mouth.  They  must  be  felt  in  public  affairs.  It  is  time  for  plain 
S23eaking,  not  only,  but  for  rigorous  dealing. 

I  do  not  think  that  we  are  so  far  gone  but  that  there  is  laid  up  light- 
ning enough  in  our  communities  to  blight  and  to  blast  miscreants. 
There  is  a  day  of  change  and  reformation  coming.  "We  are  not  going 
to  perish  ignobly  in  this  way.  But  it  will  be  because  we  re|)ent.  If  we 
hold  on  in  the  way  in  which  we  ai'e  going,  we  shall  perish.  But  God 
will  have  mercy  w^on  us.  And  one  of  the  ways  in  which  he  will  do 
it  will  be  to  arouse  your  consciousness ;  to  arouse  the  expression  of 
your  indignation ;  to  lead  you  to  cleanse  your  way  by  abhorring 
that  which  is  evil  and  cleaving  to  that  which  is  good. 


PRATER    BEFORE    THE    SERM01(. 

O  Lord  t  thou  knowest  us  altogether,  better  than  we  know  ourselves ;  and  thou  art  acquainted 
with  our  thoughts.  Thou  knowest  our  desires,  and  thou  knowest  aU  the  trouble  that  we  have 
with  ourselves.  Thou  dost  behold  the  impetuous  passions  which  defy  strength.  Thou  art  the 
witness  of  the  temptations  which  come  to  us.  All  our  way  is  open  before  thee,  however  much  it 
is  hidden  from  men.  And  the  pride,  the  selfishness,  the  sordid  desires,  and  the  godless  and 
worldly  tendencies  of  our  nature— thou  art  altogether  acquainted  with  them.  Thou  dost 
behold  if  there  be  envy,  or  jealousy,  or  wrangling,  or  ill-will.  Thou  art  witness  if  our  souls  turn 


AnnoRBEycE  of  evil.  145 

away  from  that  which  is  pure  and  true  and  good.  Thou  dost  behold  if,  by  any  enticement,  we 
take  hold  of  that  which  is  unjust  or  wicked.  Thou  dost  behold  what  efforts  we  make  in  turning 
back  the  course  of  past  wrong.  Thou  dost  witness  whether  we  watch  and  strive  ;  whether,  as 
good  soldiers,  we  fight  manfully  the  battles  of  the  Lord.  And  if  thou  beholdest,  it  is  to  blame 
and  to  condemn— and  yet  to  pity  and  to  spare.  Thou  wouldest  not  that  any  should  perish.  And 
all  thy  thoughts,  even  in  punishment,  are  for  recovery,  that  men  may  live  ;  that  the  worst  may 
become  better;  that  they  may  not  die.  O  Lord  I  it  is  of  thy  compassion,  it  is  because  thou  sparest 
with  infinite  love  and  mercy,  that  we  are  alive,  and  that  there  are  such  beautiful  prospects  open 
to  us.  We  know  thy  goodness,  and  are  witnesses  of  it  all  the  way  through  life.  We  have  had 
occasion  to  bear  witness  to  thy  great  goodness  to  us,  not  deserving  it ;  but  deserving,  contrari- 
wise, thy  sharp  strokes,  and  thine  indignation  which  consumes.  We  have  been  the  recipients  of 
bounty  instead.  Thou  hast  healed  rather  than  destroyed.  Thou  hast  restored  us  to  a  better 
mind.  Thou  hast  succored  us  in  times  of  temptation,  and  accepted  our  repentance  when  we  had 
fallen ;  and  thou  art  drawing  us  with  great  grace  and  kindness.  Oh  !  that  all  thy  mercies  might 
lead  us  rather  to  repentance  than  to  hardness  of  heart  and  to  presumption  in  further  evil. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  strenethen  in  us  all  things  that  are  good,  and  weaken  the 
power  of  evil.  Grant  unto  us  not  alone  that  life  which  we  have  in  ourselves— lend  us  of  thy  life. 
Give  to  us  the  blessedness  of  thine  own  soul,  to  lift  us  higher  than  we  could  fly ;  to  strengthen  in 
us  all  things  that  are  virtuous.  Reveal  thyself  to  us  from  day  to  day,  that  we  may  walk  as  seeing 
Him  who  is  invisible.  May  we  never  be  weary  in  well-doing.  May  we  not  be  weary  in  rebuking 
the  evil  which  is  round  about  us,  or  in  laboring  for  its  extirpation  or  limitation.  May  we  seek 
to  promote  that  which  is  good,  and  to  overcome  that  which  is  evil  with  good.  Deliver  us  from 
all  malign  passions.  Deliver  us  from  all  hatred  that  is  not  a  holy  hatred.  And  we  beseech  of 
thee  that  thou  wilt  teach  us  how  to  love  as  thou  dost,  and  how  to  hate  as  thou  dost. 

Bless,  we  beseech  of  thee,  the  land  in  which  we  dweU.  Accept  our  grateful  thanksgiving  for 
all  thy  mercies  to  us  in  years  gone  by.  We  remember  the  hours  of  darkness  and  of  trouble 
of  soul ;  we  remember  the  hours  of  anguish  and  of  fear  for  the  things  that  should  come  ;  and 
behold  thou  hast  overruled  by  thy  good  providence  all  things  for  the  establishment  of  justice,  for 
the  furtherance  of  liberty,  and  for  the  promotion  of  intelligence.  And  we  pray  that  that  good 
work  which  thou  hast  instituted,  and  which  is  inspired  and  directed  by  thee,  may  go  forward. 

Pity  the  poor  and  the  ignorant.  Deliver  them  from  those  that  would  consume  them.  Grant 
that  they  who  malignantly  would  destroy  those  that  are  weak  may  themselves  be  caught  in  their 
own  nets,  and  perish  in  the  pit  which  they  have  digged. 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  all  over  the  world  the  strong  may  be  strong  in  righteousness,  and 
that  those  who  lift  themselves  up  for  iniquity  may  be  beaten  down  small  as  the  dust. 

Advance  thy  banner,  O  God  of  justice  and  of  truth  !  Give  hope  to  those  that  are  desolate. 
To  the  striving  and  dovni-trodden  people  everywhere  manifest  thyself  And  may  great  light 
arise  to  those  who  sit  in  darkness.  Overturn  everywliere,  and  overturn,  until  he  whose  right  it 
is  shall  come  and  reign.  Fulfill  thy  gracious  promises.  Gather  in  Jew  and  Gentile.  May  the 
whole  earth  hi  a  blessed  day  ripen  at  last. 

And  thy  name  shall  receive  the  honor  and  the  glory  forever  and  forever.    Amen. 


PRAYER    AFTER    THE    SERMO^\ 

Our  Father,  we  beseech  of  thee,  let  thy  blessing  follow  the  word  spoken.  If  we  are  lights 
in  the  world,  may  our  light  shine.  If  we  are  the  salt  of  the  earth,  let  not  the  salt  lose  its  savor. 
If  we  are  thy  soldiers  and  are  put  upon  watch  as  sentinels,  let  us  not  leave  the  enemy  to  creep  in 
upon  our  own  friends  to  their  destruction.  May  we  be  good  soldiers,  fearless,  faithful  unto  the 
very  end,  doing  battle  for  the  right. 

Give  us,  we  beseech  of  thee,  clearer  views  of  thine  own  self    Every  day,  in  prayer,  take  us 


146  ABHORRENCE  OF  EVIL. 

into  thine  tipper  ocean,  and  cleanse  us  there.  'Wash  us  in  those  waters  'which  shall  return  us  to 
earth  clean  indeed.  May  -we  live  in  such  communion  "with  thee  that  nothing  can  dwell  with  us 
that  is  offensive  to  thee.  Purify  thy  churches.  Give  tone,  and  courage,  and  perspicuity,  and  per- 
spicacity to  thy  ministering  servants.  May  they  be  the  voice  of  God  in  this  community.  Brace 
up  the  loins  of  those  that  are  members  of  our  churches.  May  they  come  out  of  their  sentimentali- 
ty and  look  fearlessly  upon  the  duties  that  are  incumbent  upon  them  in  these  days. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  vnlt  make  men  more  fearless,  more  true,  purer,  nobler,  more 
patriotic.  Give  to  us  better  rulers.  Give  to  us  better  representatives.  Pardon  our  judges,  and 
take  them  out  of  the  way  I 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thy  name  may  be  glorified  among  the  poor,  and  among  the  needy, 
and  among  the  weak  that  are  overborne  in  the  struggle  for  life.  Grant  that  power  may  not  be 
tyrannical.    Grant  that  great  capacities  may  not  be  given  to  avarice  and  corruption. 

Lord  God,  we  beseech  of  thee  to  look  upon  our  nation  with  mercy,  and  save  us  from  our  own 
infamous  passions,  and  from  the  e\il  courses  upon  which  we  are  bent.  O  Lord !  give  ear,  that  all 
men  may  see  that  our  salvation  is  of  thee. 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Amen. 


X. 

PRIVILEGES  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN. 


PRIVILEGES  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN. 

SUNDAY    MORNING,    NOVEMBER   15,   1868. 


"  But  ye  are  come  imto  Mount  Zion,  and  nnto  the  city  of  the  living  God,  the 
heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innumerable  company  of  angels,  to  the  general 
assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born,  which  are  written  in  heaven,  and  to  God 
the  Judge  of  all,  and  to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  and  to  Jesus  the 
mediator  of  the  new  covenant,  and  to  the  blood  of  sprinkling,  that  speakcth  better 
thiiigs  than  that  of  Abel." — Heb,  sii.  22-34. 


Theee  is  a  sublime  contrast  in  this  whole  chapter  between  the  posi- 
tion  or  privilege  of  a  worshiper  under  the  Mosaic  dispensation,  and 
that  of  a  worshiper  in  the  new  kingdom  of  Christ.  We  should  remember 
the  great  tenacity  with  which  the  Jews  held  fast  to  their  historic 
faith ;  how,  over  and  above  pride  and  Avorldliness,  there  was  what  I 
might  ahnost  call  a  relentless  tenacity  in  their  religious  convictions  ; 
and  how  the  apostles  found  everywhere  occasion  to  argue  with  their 
countr}Tnen  to  detach  them  from  their  childhood  faith,  and  bring 
them  on  to  the  ground  of  a  true  Christian  faith. 

It  was  in  the  very  course  of  such  a  labor  as  this  to  persuade  the 
Jew  that  ho  really  gave  up  nothing.  Therefore  it  was  said,  "  Christ 
is  the  fulfilling  of  the  laAV."  You  do  not  abandon  the  Jewish  law, 
the  Mosaic  economy,  when  you  accept  Christ.  You  fulfill  it  more 
perfectly  than  when  you  leave  Christ  out,  and  attempt  to  follow  Moses. 

Still  further  than  that,  the  apostle  argues  :  You  lose  nothing. 
Under  the  old  dispensation  you  were  constrained ;  you  were  under 
bondage.  We  ask  you  not  to  abandon  that  in  any  such  sense  as  to 
be  recreant  to  its  real  spirit,  but  to  accept  it  in  the  larger  presentation 
which  it  has  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ;  so  that  you  shall  have  a  thou- 
sand times  more.     You  lose  nothing ;  you  gain  every  thing. 

And  in  this  passage,  so  dramatic,  so  striking  to  the  imagination  of 

every  one,  he  says,  "  Ye  are  not  come,"  as  Christians,  "  unto  the  mount 

that  might  be  touched ;"  "  ye  are  come  unto  Mount  Zion."     Ye  are 

'not  come  unto  the  mount  "  that  burned  with  fire ;"  nor  are  ye  come 

Lesson  :  Hebrews  12.    Hymns  (Plymouth  Collection) :  Nos.  2S6,  635, 1244. 


148  PBIVILEGES  OF  THE  CHPdSTIAN. 

"  imto  blackness,  and  darkness,  and  tempest."   Ye  are  come  "  unto  the 
city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem." 

The  dearest  place,  to  the  imagination  of  the  Jew,  that  there  was  on 
earth,  was  old  Jerusalem,  hoary  and  grand.  And  yet  ye  are  come  to  a 
higher  Jerusalem  than  that,  says  the  apostle.  "  Ye  are  not  come  to  the 
sound  of  a  trumpet,  and  the  voice  of  words ;  which  voice  they  that 
heard  entreated  that  the  word  should  not  be  spoken  to  them  any 
more.  Ye  are  come  unto  Mount  Zion,  and  unto  the  city  of  the  living 
God,  to  the  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innumerable  comjjany  of 
angels,  to  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born,  which 
are  written  in  heaven,  and  to  God  the  Judge  of  all,  and  to  the  s^Dirits 
of  just  men  made  perfect."  Ye  are  not  come  to  that  sight  which  was 
so  terrible  that  even  Moses  said,  "  I  exceedingly  fear  and  quake ;"  but 
ye  are  come  "  to  Jesus,  the  mediator  of  the  new  covenant,  and  to  the 
blood  of  sprinkling,  that  speaketh  better  things  than  that  of  Abel." 
Do  not  fear,  therefore,  to  accept  Chi-ist ;  for  it  gives  you  all  that  you 
had  before,  and  a  thousand  times  more.  It  advances  you  out  of  the 
twilight,  and  out  of  the  storm-clad  horizon  of  your  past  faith,  into 
the  glorious  illumination  of  a  moi'e  spiritual  worship,  where  all  fonns 
of  fear  and  ghastly  motives  of  ten-or  cease,  and  where  companionship, 
and  divine  guidance,  and  infinite  blessings,  await  you. 

This  constiiiction  (and  it  is  the  true  one  without  a  question)  will 
require  us  to  understand,  then,  not  as  it  is  usually,  and,  I  fear,  care- 
lessly imderstood,  that  Chi-istians  are  coming  to  the  "  New  Jerusa- 
lem," to  the  "  general  assembly,"  to  the  "  church  of  the  first-born,"  to 
the  "  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect."  It  is  the  enunciation  of  the 
fact  that  men  are  in  congress  and  in  conjunction  with  all  these  influ- 
ences as  soon  as  they  come  under  the  cope  and  canopy  of  the  new 
dispensation.  Xot,  Ye  are  coming  to  these  things ;  but,  ye  are  come. 
It  is  in  the  present.  It  is  a  part  of  the  privilege  which  belongs  to  the 
earthly  ministration  of  your  faith.  Ye  have  come.  The  very  fact 
that  you  spiritually  are  leaning  on  Christ  Jesus  gives  you  advent  and 
access.  Every  true  discijjle  affiliated  with  Christ  belongs  to  this  great 
household. 

It  is  true,  to  be  sure,  that  we  do  not  complete  on  earth  this  imion 
to  that  full  and  perfect  junction  which  lies  only  in  the  future;  but  the 
critical  idea — that  on  which  the  very  argument  of  the  aj^ostle  turned — 
the  argument  of  comfort  with  us,  too — is  this :  that,  by  virtue  of  our 
union  with  Christ,  now,  already,  we  have  come,  according  to  the  mea- 
sure of  our  faith,  into  the  grandeur  of  this  company.     It  is  ours  now. 

Let  us  see,  then,  some  of  the  particulars  of  it. 
What  is  the   privilege  of   a  Christian?      What  is  the  condition 
in  which  he  is  living,  if  he  only  knew  his  o^vn  interest  ?     For  a  man 
may  be  an  heir,  though  he  does  not  know  it.     He  gets  no  good  of  the 


PRIVILEGES  OF  TEE  CHRISTIAN.  149 

knowing,  but  the  property  is  coming  to  liim  just  as  really  as  if  he  did 
know  it.  Men  pity  him,  and  say,  "  How  much  hapj^ier  would  he  be 
if  he  knew  it  I"  And  so  it  is  with  Christians.  They  are  heirs— heu's 
of  a  wonderful  inheritance,  which  is  already  so  far  dispensed,  portions 
of  which  are  ministered  in  advance  in  such  a  way  that,  if  they  but 
knew  it,  they  would  be  transcendently  haj^j^y. 

"  Ye  are  come  " — the  apostle  says  in  the  first  place — "  unto  Momit 
Zion,  and  imto  the  city  of  the  living  God,  the  heavenly  Jerusalem  " 
— God's  home.  This  conveyed  to  the  Jew  an  image  of  the  place  more 
vividly  than,  perhaps,  any  other  figure  in  the  world.  To  us  it  ought 
to  convey  a  very  vivid  image,  if  we  say  that  God  takes  us  to  his  own 
home.  We  are  surroxmded  by  it.  We  touch  it,  or  are  touched  by  it. 
We  are  brought  mto  such  ultimate  relations,  if  we  be  true  Christians, 
with  Christ,  or  with  God,  that,  whether  we  know  it  or  not,  the  king- 
dom of  God  is  within  us  or  around  us.  If  we  are  yet  under  the 
dominion  of  sense  to  such  an  extent  that  we  can  not  appreciate  it, 
nevertheless,  the  spiritual  fact  remains  that  faith,  working  by  love, 
and  bringing  our  souls  into  a  Avilling  union  with  Christ,  brings  us, 
also,  into  the  very  midst  of  the  great  host  and  household  of  the  living 
God. 

That  is  not  all.  We  are  brought  "  to  an  innumerable  company  of 
angels  " — now  invisible,  nevertheless  real ;  for  the  declaration  is  not 
that  when  we  die  we  shall  go  where  angels  live,  but  that  when  we 
come  into  the  new  dispensation,  by  the  true  spmt  of  faith,  we  then 
come  to  the  "  general  assembly ;"  to  the  "  church  of  the  first-born  ;" 
to  an  "  inmimerable  company  of  angels."  You  have  come  to  theni. 
Where  ?  It  does  not  matter  whether  you  see  them — they  see  you. 
It  does  not  matter  whether  you  recognize  them,  so  far  as  your  comfort 
and  use  of  them  is  concerned.  The  mere  fact,  itself,  stands.  I  did 
not  see,  early  in  the  morning,  the  flight  of  those  birds  that  filled  all  the 
bushes,  and  all  the  orchard  trees ;  but  they  were  there,  though  I  did 
not  see  their  coming,  and  I  heard  their  songs  afterward.  It  does  not 
matter  whether  you  have  ministered  to  you  yet  those  perceptions  by 
which  you  perceive  angelic  existence.  The  fact  that  we  want  to  bear 
in  mind  is,  that  we  are  environed  by  them ;  that  we  move  in  their 
midst.  How,  where,  what  the  philosophy  is,  whether  it  be  spiritual 
philosopby,  no  man  can  tell,  and  they  least  that  think  they  know- 
most  about  it.  The  fact  which  we  prize  and  lay  hold  of  is  this :  that 
angelic  mmistration  is  a  part,  not  of  the  heavenly  state,  but  of  the 
universal  condition  of  men ;  and  that,  as  soon  as  we  become  Christ's, 
we  come  not  only  to  the  home  of  the  living  God,  but  to  the  "  mnu- 
merable  company  of  angels." 

We  come  also  (and  as  we  draw  near  to  this,  our  knowledge  begins 
to  kindle  sympathy)  "  to  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the  fii'st- 


150  PRIVILEGES  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN'. 

born,  wliicli  are  written  in  heaven,"  and  "to  the  sjmits  of  just  men 
made  jjerfect."  In  other  words,  we  come  into  junction  and  rehition- 
ship  with  every  thing  that  has  been  on  earth  worthy  of  remembrance, 
of  enunciation,  of  celebration.  All  the  great  natures  of  this  world 
are  ours,  if  they  have  been  saved.  "  The  spirits,"  they  are  called,  "  of 
just  men." 

But  that  is  not  all.  They  are  not  those  just  men  that  history  nar- 
rates. They  are  the  spirits  of  just  men  that  are  made  perfect  in  their 
beatified  condition ;  for  great  natures  in  this  world  are  drawni,  almost 
of  necessity,  into  partialisms  and  into  distortions.  We  are  always 
seeking  to  find  the  ideal  man,  never  inside  of  the  body.  We  are 
always  seeking  for  tlie  hero  that  is  rounded  out  on  every  side.  But 
no  man  can  be  a  hero  who  is  not  a  warrior,  and  no  man  can  be  a  war- 
rior without  being  in  the  distortion  of  the  battle,  and  being  grimed 
with  the  smoke  and  dust  of  the  battle.  It  is  not  possible  for  a  man  to 
have  all  the  qualities  of  a  hero  and  be  perfect  in  this  world ;  for  he 
must  needs  bend,  if  he  would  lift;  he  must  needs  be  contorted  if  he 
would  struggle  ;  he  must,  for  the  time  being,  give  disproportionate 
place  to  force,  if  he  is  siirrounded  by  enemies  whom  he  would  OA'er- 
throw.  All  the  ideal  perfections  must  come  afterward,  as  ideal  colors 
come  late  in  autumn,  and  not  in  midsummer. 

Therefore  it  is  that  all  great  natures  in  this  world  tliat  are  so 
rounded,  so  perfected,  that  they  are  heavenly  before  they  have  left 
the  earth,  are  to  be  suspected.  They  are  not  true  to  flesh  and  blood. 
You  can  not  have  a  man  in  this  world  who  has  not  ^a  good  deal  of 
flesh  and  blood  if  he  is  going  to  be  a  man  of  might  and  a  master  of 
men.  Those  names  that  the  world  will  not  let  die,  you  will  find,  are 
all  of  them  riidc,  all  of  them  bulging  here  and  there  with  excrescent 
faults,  all  of  them  more  or  less  needing  the  fire  to  purify  the  dross, 
and  bring  out  the  fine  gold.  Look,  for  instance,  at  such  saints  as  St. 
Francis.  Look  at  the  life  of  Loyola — better  than  most  folks  think. 
How,  m  addition  to  a  masterly  faith,  and  self-denials  and  achieve- 
ments; how,  in  addition  to  much  that 'was  really  sweet  and  rich  and 
wondrous  in  the  garden  of  their  souls,  were  they  clouded  with  super- 
stitions !     How  was  their  hedge  one  of  noisome  thorns  and  thistles  ! 

Look  at  such  a  one  as  Luther — one  of  the  great  natures  of  the 
world !  Grand,  indeed,  was  he.  And  yet,  in  midsummer,  August  is 
never  more  full  of  tempestuous  thunderclouds  than  he  was  of  pas- 
sions. It  was  very  well,  because  he  was  living  in  this  world.  I  had 
almost  said  tliat  I  should  not  want  to  see  a  man  living  in  this  world 
who  had  not  great  faults — ^not  sins,  but  faults  as  relative  to  an  earthly 
condition.  But  admirable  as  was  Luther's  work,  and  noble  as  were 
many  strains  of  his  disposition,  no  man  with  a  regulated  judgment 
can  fail  to  see  that  there  were  vast  elements  in  him  which  were  faulty. 


PRIVILEGES  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN:  151 

Calvin,  perhaps  one  of  the  most  remarkable  intellects  that  ever 
there  was  upon  the  earth,  for  dry  thinking — a  man  who  had  a  vast, 
generic  sympathy,  but  who  was  cold,  personally,  and  almost  without 
individual  sympathy.  How  great  his  work  was,  few  have  ever  thought 
to  measure  and  to  ascertain.     But  his  faults  were  also  great. 

Great  artists — do  we  not  find  them,  though  they  are  doing  God's 
work  in  the  great  school  of  civilization,  unworthy  of  their  own  excel- 
lences by  the  faults  that  they  carry  in  their  passions,  by  the  distem- 
per of  envy  and  jealousy  ?  If  God  raises  up  a  Cromwell  to  wrest 
liberty  from  the  kmg's  hands,  and  set  it  firmly  upon  its  feet  before 
the  nations  of  the  earth,  are  there  not  also  great  mfelicities  of  tem- 
per and  of  will  that  mar  the  portraiture  of  such  an  one  ? 

Find  me  prelates  and  bishops  that  have  made  the  world  richer  than 
they  found  it,  and  I  will  also  find  in  them  a  mixtui-e  of  dross.  Find 
me  poets  that  have  filled  the  world  with  great  wisdom  of  song,  and 
even  in  the  cases  of  these  poets,  if  not  in  theii*  songs,  yet  in  them- 
selves, there  is  need  of  great  purification. 

And  so,  when  we  are  said  to  belong  to  the  great  company  of  the 
"  spu'its  of  just  men  " — blessed  be  those  added  words,  made  perfect — 
not  as  they  were  speaking  the  language  of  the  earth ;  not  as  they 
were  bound  down  by  the  prejudices  of  the  nation  which  gave  them 
birth ;  not  as  they  were  men  of  sects  and  parties  and  schools  ;  not  as 
they  were  men  that  set  mighty  passions  over  against  mighty  moral 
excellences ;  but  as  they  are,  with  all  their  faults  weeded  out,  when 
the  frosts  of  death  have  killed  every  thing  that  is  base  in  them,  and 
when  they  have  grown  up  to  be  fau-er  men,  and  are  in  the  full  efful- 
gence of  symmetry  and  perfectness  of  develoinnent.  Ye  are  come 
to  the  innumerable  company  of  angels  that  always  were  perfect,  and 
also  to  all  whom  God  has  been  reaping  and  garnering  since  time  had  a 
population,  whose  earthly  life  he  has  perfected,  and  whom  he  has  ex- 
alted to  purity  and  glory  above.  Ye  are  coming  toward  it  more  and 
more ;  but  ye  have  come  to  it^  as  I  will  show  you  in  a  moment. 

This  perfecting  of  men,  so  that  lives  which  seem  here  so  tempestu- 
ous come  to  a  cahn ;  so  that  lives  which  seem  here  so  full  of  faults 
and  jolts  and  jars  are,  after  all,  slowly  according — is  to  me  a  thought 
full  of  harmony  and  full  of  beauty.  We  do  not  carry  out  of  this 
world  every  thing  that  we  have  in  it.  There  are  a  great  many  of  our 
faults  that  we  do  not  cany  out  with  us.  There  are  a  great  many  of 
the  passions  that  minister  to  the  body  here  which  we  have  no  reason 
to  believe  will  go  beyond  the  grave.  We  carry  out  that  which 
belongs  to  our  immortal  souls,  but  not  those  things  wliich  serve 
merely  and  purely  the  body.  Therefore  it  is  that  deatli,  by  merely 
setting  us  free  from  the  body,  carries  us  by  translation  into  a  more 
perfect  and  orbed  character. 


152  PRIVILEGES  OF  TEE  CHRISTIAN. 

Have  yon  ever  ■vratched  the  dandelion  as  it  lay,  "vritli  golden  blos- 
som, snugged  in  the  grass  of  the  meadoAV  ?  If  you  pluck  one,  how 
coarse  the  stem  is  !  If  you  examme  the  blossom,  the  crowded  congrega- 
tion of  golden  petals,  it  is  not  beauteous,  it  is  coarse,  though  the  eiiect 
is,  at  a  distance,  bright  and  beautiful.  But  when  it  has  perfected 
itself  as  a  blossom,  and  all  its  petals  are  shed,  and  the  seed  begins 
then  to  spring  up,  how,  in  one  ripening  hour,  do  you  see  the  fairest, 
the  most  airy  and  evanescent  globe  of  seed,  following  the  blossom, 
that  you  can  find  in  the  whole  vegetable  kingdom !  I  never  see  a 
dandelion  that  I  do  not  think,  "  There  you  are,  man,  living  in  the 
world  ;"  and  I  never  afterward  see  that  airy  and  exquisite  globe  of 
seed,  that  I  do  not  thnik,  "  There  you  are  resurrected."  That  is  the 
man  when  he  is  here  on  earth,  and  this  is  the  man  when  he  is  per- 
fected. How,  in  a  moment,  is  he  translated  from  the  coarse,  low  form 
of  the  blossom,  into  that  any,  almost  spiritual,  beauty  of  the  seed ! 
And  the  men  that  went  ramping  and  raging  here ;  the  men  that  for 
a  good  pm-jiose  carried  venomous  instruments ;  the  men  that,  misun- 
derstanding each  other,  slew  theii*  own  best  friends,  if  they  had 
known  it ;  the  disciples  that  persecuted  disciples ;  the  heroes  that  lit 
with  then-  torch  the  bm*ning  pile  of  heroes ;  the  men  who  wielded  the 
sword  to  destroy  whom  the  world  could  not  well  sj)are — these 
misgiiided  men,  mistaken  men,  men  going  their  short  com-ses  and  cu-- 
cuits,  with  various  faults  and  imperfections,  are  all  of  them  perfected 
and  lifted  up  into  that  sphere,  where,  spiritualized,  ethereal,  ineffable, 
they  become  the  comjiany,  not  only  of  each  other,  but  of  every  living 
soul  on  the  globe  that  has  spiritual  apprehension  and  spiritual  affinities. 

Te  are  come  not  only  to  the  home  and  city  of  the  living  God, 
and  to  angels,  and  to  the  spuits  of  just  men  made  perfect,  but  ye 
are  come  to  God  himself.  Ye  are  brought  into  the  lo-sing  presence, 
and  into  the  living,  immediate,  and  continuous  sympatliy  of  God. 
I  would  not  give  so  much  for  this  rounded  heaven  as  for  a  china 
ball,  if  it  had  nothing  more  in  it  than  that  which  my  natiu-al  eye  can 
see.  "What  is  the  grandem-  of  the  night  to  me,  or  what  is  the  glory 
of  such  an  over-canopying  day  to  me,  but  this :  that  it  is  the  heaven 
of  my  God,  and  that  it  brings  him  nearer  to  me  ?  "What  to  me  is  the 
grandeur  of  the  field,  the  pomp  of  the  hill,  the  glory  of  the  summer, 
the  wealth  of  the  antiunn ;  what  to  me  are  all  forms,  and  all  colors, 
and  all  forces,  and  all  soimds,  and  all  harmonies  therein,  but  this : 
that  they  minister,  either  individually  or  collectively,  the  sense  of  the 
beauty,  the  grandeur,  and  the  reality  of  the  presence  of  God  ?  It  is 
God  that  makes  the  stillness  of  the  air  so  sweet.  It  is  God  that 
makes  the  tumult  of  the  storm  so  enjoyable.  It  is  God  that  makes 
the  night  better  than  the  bed  to  our  weary  thoughts.  It  is  God  that 
makes  the  daylight  full  of  splendor  and  full  of  glory.     It  is  God  that 


PRIVILEGES  OF  THE  CffBISTIA^.  153 

rules  the  year.  And  nature  -would  be  scarcely  worth  a  puff  of  the 
empty  wind,  if  it  were  not  that  all  nature  is  but  a  temple  of  which 
God  is  the  brightness  and  the  glory.  And  Avhenever  a  man  becomes 
a  Christian,  he  comes  into  such  an  apprehensive  state  that  he  comes 
riglit  home  to  God  in  every  thing  and  everywhere.  And  not  the 
Bible  alone,  but  the  earth,  teaches  us  of  God. 

Do  I  blame  a  man  who,  for  the  sake  of  knowing  God,  carries  his 
Bible  in  his  pocket?  No.  That  is  well.  But  if  a  man  has  no  God, 
nor  the  power  of  evoking  the  apprehension  of  one,  except  from  the 
jmnted  text,  I  do  pity  him.  I  could  not  carry  my  Bible  in  my 
pocket,  unless  I  could  put  this  vast  orb  there.  For  "  the  heavens 
declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firmament  showeth  his  liandiwork. 
Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto  night  showeth  know- 
ledge." All  through  the  procession  of  the  seasons,  and  everywhere, 
this  world  seems  to  have  been  built  on  purpose  to  be  a  vast  imagery 
of  God;  and  all  its  generations,  and  all  its  phenomena,  are  develop- 
ments that  continually  prophesy  to  him  that  hath  an  ear  to  hear; 
and  while  through  the  Scriptures  I  read  in  clearer  li?ies,  as  the  hymn 
hath  it,  of  the  domestic  character  of  God,  and  of  the  moral  govern- 
ment of  God,  the  Bible  itself  has  not  the  same  power  to  bring  the 
sense  of  God's  presence  and  his  living  being  to  me,  that  nature  has, 
if  nature  be  looked  at  in  its  sanctified  aspects. 

But  one  thing  more.  Ye  are  come  "  to  Jesus  the  Mediator  of  the 
new  covenant " — which  to  the  Jew  meant  nothing  ;  but  which  to  the 
disciple  meant  every  thing ;  for  the  name  of  Jesus  was  the  one  name 
to  the  early  disciple,  above  every  other  name,  and  sweeter  than  every 
other  name  ;  and  it  gave  force  and  validity  to  every  other  thing. 

This,  then,  is  the  outline  of  the  passage.  Let  us  take  some  of  the 
applications  of  it.  Let  us  suck  out  some  of  the  sweetness  that  is  in 
this  flower. 

1.  "We  are  come  by  virtue  of  our  Christian  life,  my  dear 
brethren,  not  to  self-denial,  and  to  pain,  and  to  repentance,  and 
to  sorrow,  and  to  limitation.  It  is  true  that  a  man  who  has 
been  going  in  wrong  courses  must  needs  pass  through  the  gate 
of  repentance,  and  the  baptism  of  sorrow ;  but  that  which  I  par- 
ticularly deprecate,  is  the  popular  impression  that  to  be  a  religious 
man  is  to  enter  upon  a  life  of  gloom  ;  that  it  is  to  go,  as  it  were,  to 
Newfoundland,  where  there  is  nothing  but  fogs  the  year  round.  I 
would  not  have  a  man  get  such  a  conception  of  religion,  as  that  to 
have  no  faults  he  is  to  have  only  icy  excellences,  as  if  he  dwelt  at 
the  North  Pole,  where  no  weeds  grow,  because  nothing  grows.  And 
yet  many  persons  think  that  when  a  man  becomes  a  Christian,  he 
must  from  that  moment  bid  farewell  to  joys,  except  certain  unknown 
joys  of  an  abstract  character.    There  are  thousands  that  say,  "  How 


154         PBIYILEQES  OF  TEE  CHRISTIAN'. 

can  I  become  a  Christian  ?  How  can  I  give  up  my  husband  ?  How- 
can  I  give  up  my  children  ?  How  can  I  give  up  my  occupation  !" 
Who  asks  you  to  give  them  up  ?  "  But  do  not  you  tell  me  that  I 
must  give  up  every  thing  for  Christ  ?"  No,  I  do  not  tell  you  any  such 
thing  as  that.  I  tell  you  that  you  must  Jceep  every  thing  for  Christ.  I 
tell  you  that  if  you  love,  you  must  love  better',  stronger,  purer,  for 
Christ's  sake.  If  you  stand  in  affinities  one  with  another,  I  do  not 
say,  Break  the  silver  bands  in  order  to  be  a  Christian  :  I  say,  Polish 
them.  You  say,  "  I  am  engaged  in  weighty  affairs.  I  minister  to 
the  times  in  which  I  live."  If  the  affairs  are  right  affairs,  I  do  not  say 
you  must  lay  those  affairs  down  to  be  a  Christian.  Kay,  I  say,  You  are 
God's  minister  in  those  very  things  ;  and  I  say.  Keep  them — for  Christ's 
sake  keep  them.  "  But  if  a  man  becomes  a  Christian,  must  he  not 
suffer  ?"  How  suffer?  Just  as  a  man  who  has  broken  his  leg  suffers 
when  it  is  set.  But  it  is  a  little  suffering  for  the  sake  of  life-long 
health  of  limb,  just  as  men  who  are  sick  take  medicine  that  they  may 
get  well.  But  do  you  say  that  a  man  had  better  be  sick  all  his  life 
rather  than  go  through  the  pain  and  j)enalty  of  getting  well  ?  If  a  man 
becomes  a  Christian,  he  is  simply  a  man  that  has  been  in  an  abnormal 
state,  an  out-of-joint  state  ;  and  becoming  a  Christian  is  merely  get- 
ting back  into  joint  with  God,  with  his  own  spiritual  being,  with  the 
universe.  He  comes  into  nature  again — for  a  man  that  is  living  in  a 
sinful  way  is  out  of  nature — his  higher  and  truer  nature.  As  to  the 
gloom  of  it,  that  depends  x;pon  how  foolish  you  are.  If  you  are  only 
a  little  bit  of  a  Christian;  if  you  have  just  enough  religion  to  keep 
a  fire  burning  under  your  conscience,  you  ought  to  be  gloomy,  you 
ought  to  be  tormented,  and  you  will  be  tormented ;  but  if  you  make 
a  meal  of  religion,  if  you  give  yourself  to  it,  if  you  accej^t  it — not  as 
if  it  were  to  be  worn  as  some  people  wear  a  brooch,  in  contrast  and  out 
of  hai'mony  with  every  thing  else  that  they  have  on — then  it  is  another 
name  for  the  total  education  of  your  moral  being  and  life.  If  ye 
bring  your  life  and  disposition  into  consonance  with  those  laws  of 
life  and  character  which  God  has  laid  down,  not  only  will  ye  not  be 
gloomy,  but  ye  are  come  to  the  "  heavenly  Jerusalem,  and  to  an  innu- 
merable company  of  angels,  to  the  general  assembly  and  church  of 
the  first-born,  and  to  God  the  Judge  of  all,  and  to  the  spirits  of 
just  men  made  perfect,  and  to  Jesus  the  mediator  of  the  new 
covenant,  and  to  the  blood  of  sj^rinkling,  that  speaketh  better  things 
than  that  of  Abel." 

Ye  are  not  come  to  tears  or  to  sorrow,  but  to  "  the  sound  of  a 
trumpet  and  the  voice  of  words."  Ye  are  come  to  triumph  ;  to  an 
illustrious  company  ;  to  glorious  heraldings.  Ye  are  come  to  convoys 
and  felicities,  and  radiant  hopes  and  blessed  fruitions. 

Lift  up  your  heads,  then,  ye  that  are  bowed  down  like  the  bul- 


PRIVILEGES  OF  THE  CnRISTlAIT.  155 

rushes ;  ye  that  go  sorrowing  with  long  sadness  marked  on  your 
features.  Slander  no  more  Ilim  who  should  be  to  you  as  the  orient 
sky  in  the  morning,  glowing  with  beauty.  To  be  a  Christian  is  to 
be  more  clieerful  than  a  man  can  be  without  being  a  Christian.  And 
every  Christian  man  ought,  "with  the  sweetness  of  his  joy,  with  the 
clear  radiance  of  his  faith,  and  with  the  piercing  beams  of  his  expe- 
rience, to  make  men  about  him  say,  "  There  is  no  life  like  a  Christian 
life." 

"May  not  I  cry  then  ?"  Yes  ;  just  as  the  night  does — and  in  the 
morning  it  is  dew.  There  is  not  a  flower  that  does  not  look  sweeter 
for  it.  True  tears  make  men  beautiful.  True  sorrows  are,  after  all, 
but  the  seeds  out  of  which  come  fairer  joys.  Sorrow  is  only  the  labor- 
pain  when  a  joy  is  coming  into  birth. 

2.  It  is  a  great  comfort,  in  the  light  of  this  truth,  that  nothing  on 
earth  has  ever  been  lost  that  was  worth  keeping.  Every  thing  has 
been  gathered  and  garnered.  Not  only  that ;  it  has  been  gathered 
and  garnered  for  you  and  for  me.  All  the  holy  men  that  have  lived 
in  every  age  of  the  world  are  mine — every  one  of  them.  "  Ye  are 
come  to  the  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect " — to  the  good,  and  the 
noble,  and  the  holy  in  every  age  of  the  world.  I  come  back  to  my 
birthriglit.  I,  too,  am  a  child  in  that  great  family.  I,  too,  although 
I  may  not  know  them,  am  known  of  them.  I  may  not  set  such  store 
upon  thcra  as  I  ought ;  but  they  set  great  store  on  me. 

Paul — I  do  not  think  of  him  as  the  Paul  of  two  thousand  years 
ago.  Paul — I  do  not  think  of  him  Avrapt  in  sublime  but  solitary 
meditation  among  the  heavenly  host  with  eyes  lifted  up.  Paul  is  a 
more  "lorious  laborer  to-dav  than  he  was  when  he  lived  in  the  flesh  • 
and  his  heai't  is  nearer  mine  to-day  than  it  possibly  could  have  been 
if  he  had  been  walking  and  speaking  yet  among  men. 

All  the  apostles,  all  the  martyrs,  all  the  confessors,  all  pure  and 
true  preachers  of  the  Word,  all  kings  that  deserved  to  be  kings,  all 
nobles  that  were  nobles  of  heart  as  well  as  of  name,  all  holy  mothers 
and  fathers,  all  great  artists,  all  great  benefactors,  all  the  persecuted 
and  despised,  and  crucified  almost,  all  that  have  suffered  for  a  j^rin- 
ciple,  all  that  the  dungeons  had,  and  all  that  the  hospitals  had,  and 
all  that  the  sea  has  swallowed,  and  all  that  the  earth  has  covered — 
all  of  them,  though  they  have  passed  through  so  many  and  such  vari- 
ous pains,  although  they  are  apparently  destroyed,  are  no  more  de- 
stroyed than  the  seed  that  the  farmer  covers  under  the  clod  that  it 
may  rise  again  in  more  glorious  luxuriance.  God  has  saved  every 
thing  that  was  worth  saving  in  this  world. 

\yhen  the  florist  gathers  his  seeds  in  the  best  way  he  can,  and 
winnows  them,  giving  them  the  best  sifting  he  can,  the  poorest  seeds 
are  carried  away  by  the  wind  with  the  chaff",  and  he  loses  them,  iin- 


156  PEiriLEGES  OF  THE  CEHISTIAX. 

less  lie  is  a  very  acute  seedsman,  and  goes  after  these  poor  seeds  to 
brinof  tbem  back  again,  that  they  may  swell  the  bulk  and  quantity 
of  his  salable  material.  But  when  the  great  Gardener  shall  save  his 
seeds,  the  poorest  seed  of  the  whole,  the  most  shrunken,  if  it  only 
has  a  germ  no  bigger  than  a  needle's  point  in  it,  shall  not  be  lost. 
Xot  the  great,  beauteous,  plump  seeds  alone,  but  the  little  infinitesi- 
mal seeds — all  these  God  has  saved,  and  he  will  save  them  all.  For 
God,  who  loved  the  world  so  that  he  gave  his  own  life  for  it — do  you 
suppose  he  will  lose  a  single  particle  or  grain  of  humanity  ? 

And  this  is  not  all.  Tliough  the  heritage  of  the  great  natures  of 
the  world  has  gone  past  and  out  of  our  view,  and  though  it  is  some- 
what difficult  to  realize  it,  yet  it  aflbrds  me  no  small  comfort. 
These  invisible  beings  are  better  company  than  I  get  often  on  earth. 

There  is  another  view  which  particularly  pleases  me  ;  and  that  is, 
that  I  own  all  the  great  men  that  live  now.  I  am  the  richest  man  on 
earth — unless  you  are  as  rich  as  I  am  !  If  you  have  faith,  then  you 
are  as  rich  as  I  am.  He  is  the  richest  man  who  makes  the  most  spi- 
ritual joy  out  of  the  conditions  which  God  has  laid  before  him. 

There  are  thousands  of  men  who,  if  I  shall  go  to  them  and  say, 
"Vrni  you  accept  me  as  your  brother  ?  will  put  the  catechism  into  my 
hand,  and  say,  "  Xo ;  but  let  me  instruct  you,  let  me  feed  you  and 
round  you  out,  till  you  are  fit  to  go  before  an  oriental  king,  and  then, 
■when  you  are  full  and  plump,  we  will  take  you."  But  I  can  not  take 
their  creed  and  catechism. 

To  another  one  I  say,  Will  you  accept  me  ?  "If  you  will  join  my 
sect,  I  will."  But  I  am  too  large,  I  tell  him,  for  any  sect ;  therefore 
I  can  not  join  yours. 

You  have  seen  those  great  was  candles  which  they  use  in  cathe- 
drals. Some  of  them  are  six  inches  across ;  and  yet  they  will  bring 
a  little  household  candlestick  that  is  not  more  than  an  inch  in  diam- 
eter to  put  them  in.  And  how  are  you  going  to  put  such  a  candle 
in  such  a  candlestick  ?  Sects  are  candlesticks,  and  a  man  or  woman 
that  is  big  enough  to  be  good  for  any  thing,  is  too  large  for  any  sect. 
And  there  are  a  great  many  sects  that  would  accept  me  if  they  could 
whittle  me  down  small  enough  to  get  me  into  their  candlestick. 
Then,  they  would  let  me  burn  before  the  altar  of  the  Lord ! 

I  go  to  a  bishop,  to  a  priest,  to  a  minister,  to  an  elder,  and  they 
will  not  accept  me ;  but  I  turn  round  with  sweet  revenge,  and  say. 
You  can  not  help  yourselves,  I  own  you.  You  will  not  take  me  ;  but 
you  can  not  prevent  my  taking  you.  "  Take  us  ?  You  ca7i  not  take 
us,"  they  exclaim.  I  can  take  you.  I  can  love  you ;  I  can  honor  you ; 
I  can  praise  you ;  I  can  copy  that  which  is  good  in  your  example,  and 
avoid  that  which  is  bad.  I  can  make  use  of  you.  I  have  enough  love 
in  my  heart  to  melt  down  you  and  all  other  good  men  into  the  pure 


PPdVILEGES  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN.  157 

gold.  They  are  all  mine.  If  "  tlie  spirits  of  just  men  made  perfect" 
are  mine,  are  not  these  men  mine  ?  If  the  greater  is  mine,  how  much 
more  the  less !  It  is  not  this,  tliat  God  Mill  give  to  me  all  that  he 
does  give  tome,  saying,  "You  have  come  to  the  spirits  of  just  men 
made  perfect,  and  they  are  yours ;"  but,  by  parity  of  reasoning,  thev 
are  mine  out  of  whose  imperfections  is  yet  to  be  evolved  this  perfect 
spiritual  condition. 

So  build  your  walls :  I  can  fly  over  them.  I  should  like  to  see 
any  body  build  walls  that  my  eagles  can  not  scale !  Make  your  apart- 
ments ;  nevertheless  you  are  mine.  You  can  not  escape  from  my 
sympathy,  and  my  thanksgiving  in  your  behalf.  I  own  every  man 
who  preaches  from  the  heart  to  the  heart  on  earth.  My  name  may 
not  be  down  on  his  roll ;  but  his  name  is  down  on  my  roll — which  is 
just  as  good. 

When  I  come  to  look  at  little  churches  here  and  there,  I  find  in 
that  one  only  so  many  men,  and  in  that  one  only  so  many  men,  and 
in  that  one  only  so  many.  I  go  to  the  greater  church  with  a 
true  feeling  toward  God,  and  in  true  spnpathy  with  him  ;  and  I  find 
written  in  the  books  of  that  church,  the  name  of  every  man  who 
fears  and  loves  God,  and  loves  his  fellow-men.  There  is  the  great 
church,  in  the  believing  heart,  and  not  within  the  walls  of  any  build- 
ing, nor  within  the  bounds  of  sects  alone.  There  is  the  church  in  its 
invisible  beauty  where  all  men  meet,  without  consciously  knowing  it, 
around  the  common  shrine  of  a  crucified  but  redeemed  Saviour  who 
ever  lives. 

3.  No  Christian  on  earth  need  be  lonely.  If  these  truths  are 
not  poetical  truths;  if  they  are  real  truths;  if  the  air  is  full  of  minis- 
tering spirits ;  if  time  itself  is  but  the  Lord's  chariot,  and  he  rides  with 
those  who  ride  therein ;  if  everywhere,  above  us,  beneath  us,  and  on 
every  side,  and  all  through  the  world,  good  men  are  substantially  unit- 
ed, who  has  had  to  do  more  than  lift  himself  up  into  the  conscious- 
ness of  this  essential  union  of  noble  natures,  to  feel  that  he  is  not  with- 
out company?  There  are  a  great  many  times  when  persons  are,  as 
respects  the  noble  things  of  the  world,  alone;  but  the  discouraged 
preacher  in  the  extreme  village  on  the  edge  of  the  wilderness,  who 
has  not  within  a  hundred  miles  of  him  a  brother  minister  with  whom 
he  can  exchange,  need  not  be  alone.  The  layman  who  goes  from  the 
comforts  and  conveniences  of  the  older  States,  may  fortify  himself 
against  the  discourageraentsof  thenewerStates.  The  poor  widow  who 
has  nothing  to  give  of  property,  and  who,  therefore,  would  fain  give 
instruction  to  the  neglected  children  round  about,  but  who  has  none 
to  help  and  none  to  encourage  her,  is  not  necessarily  alone.  All  labor- 
ers are  at  times  covered  with  the  shadow  of  discouragement,  because 
they  are  alone  and  without   sympathy ;  but  never,  xever,  until  the 


158  PMIV1LEGE8  OF   THE  CHB18TIAW. 

atmosphereitself  is  drunk  up,  and  there  is  no  more  atmosphere,  will 
you  ever  be  alone.  More  are  tliey  that  are  for  you  than  they  that  are 
against  you. 

Remember  the  history  of  the  prophet's  servant,  when  he  felt 
that  the  prophet  was  in  danger,  and  the  prophet  prayed  that  God 
would  open  his  eyes,  and  he  opened  them,  and  the  whole  heaven 
was  filled  with  chariots  and  horsemen  of  God.  More  are  they  that 
are  for  you  than  they  that  are  against  you.  The  heaven  is  full ;  the 
earth  is  full.  If  you  have  not  failed  to  accept  this  great  treasure, 
you  are  rich  indeed,  and  never  lonely. 

4.  They  also  who  put  themselves  into  the  way  of  Christ,  and  who 
sow  in  tears  ;  who  perform  obscure  duties,  and  duties  that  are  to 
others  disagreeable ;  who  will  not  be  seduced  by  ease  from  tasks  of 
usefulness;  who  feel  in  themselves  called  to  follow  Christ  in  doing, 
in  laboring ;  who  are  considered  singular  and  remarked — are  they 
not  by  these  very  things  joined  to  this  exceeding  great  company  ? 
Are  they  not  in  very  covenant  and  concourse  and  converse  with  the 
universe  of  invisible  workers  ^  Are  they  not,  so  far  from  being  sin- 
gular, brought  into  harmony  with  the  best  elements  of  the  iiniverse? 
They  hear  the  voice  of  God,  and  know  the  example  of  Christ,  and 
they  are  following  their  Master. 

5.  If  these  thoughts  be  correct,  there  is  also  a  contrast  the  con- 
sideration of  which  will  be  profitable  to  some  of  us,  between  those 
who  have  worldly  power  and  worldly  eminence,  and  those  Avho  have 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  "The  last  shall  be  first,"  the  lowest 
shall  be  highest,  the  most  obscure  shall  be  the  most  illustrious,  the 
highest  shall  be  the  lowest,  the  first  shall  be  last,  the  richest  shall  be 
poorest,  tlie  happiest  the  most  miserable. 

Oh !  to  have  all  your  good  things  in  this  life ;  oh !  to  have  a  man- 
sion, and  to  fill  it  with  all  that  the  senses  could  desire,  but  to  have  no 
place  in  your  Father's  house  ;  oh  !  to  have  the  fnll  swing  and  power 
of  worldly  wealth,  and  to  have  every  holy  being  in  the  universe  pity- 
ing you  as  a  pauper  ;  to  be  so  builded  in  character  that  if  God  should 
take  away  from  you  simple  financial  power,  tliere  Avould  be  nothing 
left  of  you — what  a  life  is  that ! 

Men  and  brethren,  there  is  nothing  that  makes  you  rich  or  strong 
but  that  which  yuu  carry  inside  of  you.  Your  money  is  an  instru- 
ment ;  but  after  all,  money  is  like  a  sword  in  the  hand  of  a  warrior — 
it  is  that  by  which  he  works,  but  it  is  not  he.  If  the  wai*rior  is  to 
have  a  name,  and  to  be  illustrious  in  history,  his  honor,  his  courage, 
and  his  devotedness  to  duty  are  the  elements  that  make  him — not 
tbe  instruments  which  he  employs  in  his  tasks  and  labors  of  love. 

It  is  not  enough  that  you  are  living  delicately,  or  that  you  have 
an  amplitude  of  this  world's  goods  in  your  hand,  or  that  you  stand 


PRIVILEGES  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN:  159 

up  eminently  among  men.  "What  treasures  Lave  you  In  the  soul 
itself?  There  are  a  great  many  men  Avho  solicit  at  your  hands,  and 
who  are  very  poor;  and  you  think  that  you  do  yourselves  credit  and 
your  generosity  honor  when  you  condescend  to  relieve  them  a  little. 
But,  after  all,  when  you  shall  see  what  those  men  ai"e  who  walk  in 
the  disguise  of  earthly  jDoverty ;  when  you  shall  see  that  you  are 
feeding  the  King's  sons ;  and  when  you  shrink  to  your  natural  pro- 
portions, and  see  that  it  was  "  so  as  by  fire  "  that  your  dross  was 
purged  away,  and  you  shall  creep  last  and  least  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  and  shall  see  standing  high  up  in  angelic  ranks,  those  that 
on  earth  you  stooj^ed  to  relieve,  and  shall  hear  Christ  say  to  you 
in  that  moment,  "  Of  all  your  deeds  on  earth  worthy  to  be  remem- 
bered, be  grateful  that  you  did  it  unto  the  least  of  these,"  then  how 
will  you  feel  ?  IsTow  you  shall  have  your  reward  for  saving  them  ; 
but  oh !  to  think  that  you  are  living,  and  that  I  am  living,  among 
just  such  children  of  the  King,  and  that  we  are  walking  high  above 
them,  and  that  our  spirits  are  triumphing  over  them,  that  we  sparkle 
and  they  gloom,  and  Ave  laugh  and  they  cry,  and  we  have  abund- 
ance and  they  almost  nothing,  and  we  are  rich  and  j^rosperous  and 
they  arc  truly  abject  and  poor  !  And  yet,  if  God  could  speak,  and 
his  angels  could  speak,  they  would  say,  "  Ye  that  have  the  money 
are  poverty-stricken,  and  they  that  have  not  are  God's  ricii  ones." 

Ah !  it  is  but  for  an  hour  ;  and  how  soon  that  will  tick  around  ! 
It  is  but  a  shadow — the  whole  of  your  life ;  and  the  most  of  it  with 
many  of  you  has  departed.  Then  comes  the  real.  Now  tlie  vision- 
ary; now  the  apparent ;  then  the  real.  He  that  is  rich  in  the  heart 
shall  stand  highest;  and  he  that  is  rich  in  the  outward  man  shall 
stand  lowest,  even  if  he  have  a  standing  in  heaven  at  all. 

6.  Turn  from  that  less  palatable  to  another  and  more  cheering 
view.  Let  me  say  a  word  of  comfort  to  those  whose  Avay  of  life  has 
been  very  hard,  and  to  those  who-c  way  of  life  is  becoming  very 
hard,  because  they  are  coming  into  the  infirmities  of  age. 

How  many  of  you  step  three  times  to  make  the  same  space  that 
you  used  to  make  with  two  strides  !  How  many  of  you  are  obliged 
to  double  your  eyes  now,  in  order  to  see  at  all !  How  many  of  you 
find  that  flavor  is  departing  from  food,  and  remember  hoAV  sweet 
were  the  luxuries  of  childhood  that  are  not  sapid  to  you  any 
longer  ?  How  many  of  you  multiply  your  supports,  and  then  walk 
tottering  !  How  many  of  you  have  laid  bare  your  head  like  the 
frost-bitten  field  in  the  autumn !  How  many  of  you  carry  white 
snows  upon  your  brows !  How  many  of  you,  when  you  think  of  it 
at  all,  must  needs  remember,  "I  have  had  all  the  heyday  of  youth, 
and  I  never  can  call  it  back  again  ;  I  have  had  the  prime  years  of 
middle  life,  and  those  that  are  left  must,  in  the  nature  of  things,  be 


160  PRIVILEGES  OF  THE  CnRISTIAN. 

■\viili  growing  infivmities,  with  multiplying  pains   and   circumscrip- 
tions." How  sad  it  is  ! 

I  have  seen  the  eagle  in  his  own  sj^here.  How  strangely  docs  it 
stir  a  man's  soul  to  see  one  of  those  birds  of  light  lying  afloat,  as  it 
Averc,  in  the  upi:)er  ocean,  slowly  swinging,  as  if  but  his  thought  kept 
him  there,  and  not  his  wing-beat.  And  I  have  seen  that  same  bird 
draggled  in  some  man's  show.  I  have  seen  that  same  bird  tied  and 
caged,  caring  not  to  plume  his  feathers,  and  his  wings  all  drooping. 
How  uttierly  unlike  that  bird  of  God  in  the  heavens  is  this  miserable 
bird  of  man  in  the  cage  ! 

It  is  pretty  much  this  way  with  men  that  have  been  in  the 
thunder  of  youth,  and  in  the  power  and  freshness  of  manhood,  and 
that  at  last  go  draggled  and  drooping  and  all  disheveled  into  a 
piping,  pining,  complaining,  suffering,  helpless,  and  hopeless  old  age. 
Is  that  the  eagle  ?  That  is  the  eagle  !  Is  it  not  piteous  ?  "  Oh  !  to 
die  early,"  you  say.  No,  no !  there  is  a  better  view  than  that. 
"  Oh  !  that  one  might  cut  short  tlic  course  of  life  before  it  comes  to 
this  barrenness  and  misery."  No  !  there  is  something  better  than 
that.  Lift  up  your  head.  Remember  that  you  are  going  away  from 
only  your  bodily  riches,  but  that  at  every  single  stop  you  are  going 
toward  eternal  riches.  And  you,  old  man,  half  blind,  crumjiled,  and 
bent,  tied  uj)  with  rheumatism  and  various  ailments,  after  nil,  are  the 
King's  son.  After  all,  you  never  Avere  so  near  to  your  throne. 
Never  were  you  so  near  to  your  harp  and  sceptre.  You  were  never 
so  near  to  joy ;  never  so  near  to  youth ;  never  so  near  to  all  that 
is  desirable.  Does  earthly  joy  sound  far  distant,  like  the  very 
memory  of  a  dream  to  you  ?  Listen,  then,  to  those  sounds  that  come 
wafting  over  from  the  Other  land — joys  that  are  undimmed  forever 
at  the  right  hand  of  God — your  joys,  fother;  and,  mother,  yours. 

Are  all  the  good  things  that  eai-th  can  give  you,  and  all  that 
wealth  can  purchase,  no  longer  palatable  to  you  ?  And  do  you 
count  your  life  to  be  well-nigh  ended,  its  sands  run,  and  your  expe- 
rience well-nigh  barren  as  the  sands  ? 

Look  forward!  Hark!  hark!  I  hear  within  the  beating  of  this 
heart  another  heart.  The  frint  pulsations  of  this  mortal  current  carry 
■within  them,  as  it  Avere,  that  other  pulsation,  that  never,  never  shall 
be  faint  nor  cease.  For  as  long  as  my  God  lives,  I  shall  live  ;  and 
as  long  as  he  garners  and  holds  the  spirits  of  the  just  and  of  the 
noble  and  the  true  in  heaven,  I  shall  be  among  them.  The  sun  shall 
go  out,  and  the  stars  shall  forget  to  shine,  and  the  seasons  cease  upon 
the  earth,  and  all  things  shall  be  whelmed  in  universal  ruin  ;  but  "  the 
ransomed  of  the  Lord  shall  return  and  come  to  Zion  Avith  songs  and 
everlastuig  joy  upon  their  heads."  Tliat  land  is  not  fir  away  ;  and  you 


PRIVILEGES  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN.  161 

all  arc  coming  nearer  to  it.  You  have  eo^ne  to  it — to  its  precincts  and 
its  lioralds.     You  have  come  within  sight  of  it,  and  within  sound  of  it, 

"When,  after  the  weary  voyage  that  I  first  made  across  the  ocean, 
sick,  loathsome,  I  arose  one  morning,  and  went  upon  the  deck,  hold- 
ing on,  crawling,  thinking  that  I  was  but  a  Avorm,  I  smelt  in  the  air 
some  strange  smell ;  and  I  said  to  the  captain,  "  What  odor  is  it  ?" 
"  It  is  the  land-breeze  from  off  Ireland."  I  smelt  the  apple-trees ;  I 
smelt  the  turf;  I  smelt  the  leaves  ;  I  smelt  the  grass.  All  my  sick- 
ness departed.  My  eyes  grew  bright.  My  nausea  was  gone.  With 
the  land-breeze  thoughts  of  the  nearness  of  the  land  came  to  me,  and 
cured  me  better  than  diet  or  medicine  could  cure  rae.  And  when, 
afar  off,  I  saw  the  dim  and  hazy  line  of  the  land,  joy  came.  And 
instead  of  peace  and  health  I  had  ecstasy  in  that  moment.  I  had  no 
sickness,  and  I  was  walking  the  deck  as  well  as  the  best  of  them.  I 
was  coming  near  to  the  land. 

Oh !  is  there  not  for  you,  old  man,  and  for  you  wearied  mother,  the 
land-breeze  blowing  off  from  heaven,  and  wafting  to  you  some  of  its 
odors,  some  of  its  sweetness? 

Behold  the  garden  of  the  Lord  !  It  is  not  far  away.  I  know  by 
the  land-smell.  Behold  the  joy  of  home !  Already  I  hear  the  children 
shout.  And  music — the  air  is  full  of  it,  to  our  silent  thoughts. 
Oh!  how  full  it  is,  if  our  journey  is  almost  done,  and  we  aie  standing 
on  the  bound  and  precinct  of  that  land !  Hold  on  to  your  faith, 
then.  Give  never  way  to  discouragement.  Believe  more  firmly — 
not  less.  Take  hold  by  prayer  and  by  faith.  Give  to  all  thy  troubles 
the  buffet.  By  hope  ye  are  saved;  by  faith  ye  are  saved;  and  in  a 
few  hours,  by  the  vision  of  God,  and  by  all  the  realities  of  the  eter- 
nal world,  ye  shall  be  saved  with  an  everlasting  salvation. 


PPtAYEPt    BEFORE    THE    SERMOIf. 

For  the  opening  of  this  morning,  for  this  home  day  of  the  weelv,  for  this  rest,  and  this  joyful- 
ness  in  rest,  we  render  thee  thanks,  O  thou  that  hast  appointed  this  day  in  mercy !  How  hast 
thou,  since  we  can  remember,  blessed  to  us  the  day  of  assembling  and  of  worship  !  How  hast  thou 
made  it  full  of  affection  and  of  home  memories  !  We  are  borne  back  to  the  days  of  our  childhood, 
to  the  stillness  of  this  day  immortal,  and  to  all  the  lore  which  we  were  taught  by  those  that  are  at 
rest  ill  heaven  now.  We  remember  when  the  very  thought  of  God  fell  upon  us  as  a  mighty 
shadow.  We  remember  when  our  young  hearts  first  strove  to  rise  on  feeble  wings  that  could  not 
carry  us  above  the  entanglements  of  things  visible.  '.V'e  remember,  since,  how  we  have  rested. 
What  a  refuge  from  trouble  and  care  has  this  day  been,  as  the  very  tower  into  which  thy  people 
run  and  are  saved — as  a  pavilion  where  thou  art  fulfilli  j;;*  thy  promise,  and  dost  hide  thy  people  until 
the  storm  be  past !  We  bless  thee  that  thus  tliou  hast  made  it  a  day  of  nourishment  to  thy  church 
in  every  age.  We  bless  thee  that  it  still  continues,  tliat  it  hath  power  on  the  c^rtb,  and  that  the 
seventh  day— this  very  day  that  .joins  together  the  memory  of  the  old  dispensation  and  the  new — 
this  day  that  weds  all  that  was  pure  and  good  and  restful  in  the  past  with  ;ill  that  is  full  of  hope 
in  the  time  that  is  to  come — lifts  itself  serenely  up  And  we  bless  thee  that,  amidst  warring  na- 
tions, and  the  discord  of  the  people,  there  is  still  this  rest  nninvadcd— tliis  rejoicing  day  undese- 
crated.  For.  though  there  be  thousands  that  know  it  not,  though  there  be  countless  men  that 
come  not  to  it :  yet  to  thine  own,  to  those  that  hunger  and  thirst  for  it,  it  is  in  every  land,  and 
shall  be  thronirhout  the  ages.     We  thank  thee  for  this  day. 

Now,  O  Lord  our  God  !  since  thou  hast  rolled  back  the  darkness  of  the  night,  and  the  morn- 
ing comes  pale  over  the  mountains,  so,  we  beseech  of  thee,  open  those  gates  out  of  which  comes 
the  light  of  a  better  morning.    And  give  to  us  something  of  that  light  and  joy  which  they  have 


162 


PBiriLEGES  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN. 


•whose  day  begun  shall  never  end,  -where  there  is  no  sun  but  thyself,  and  no  day  nor  night  as  men 
divide  time.  Give  to  us  this  morning  access  an  hour  to  enjoy  the  heavenly  rest :  for  we  come  up 
hither  asain,  our  garments  torn  by  the  thorns  of  care  through  -which  we  pass  in  the  garden-days 
of  the  week,  as  between  hedges.  We  come  very  hungry,  as  they  that  on  a  hasting  journey  have 
had  time  but  for  the  morsel  that  sustained  their  strength,  but  not  any^vhere  to  sit  down  at  the 
table  and  the  banquet.  We  come  this  day  as  to  a  banqueting-haU.  O  our  Father  !  speak  to  us, 
and  give  to  us  of  tliat  immortal  loaf.  Our  souls  are  not  only  hungry,  but  they  are  thirsty.  Give 
us  that  drink  from  the  wells  of  salvation,  that  we  may  not  thu-st  any  more.  Grant  that  we  may 
sit  togetiur  iu  heavenly  places  now,  and  with  great  deUght,  as  under  the  shadow  of  thine  out- 
stretclied  wings,  and  in  the  very  presence  of  thme  all-blessing  heart. 

We  thank  thee,  O  Lord  1  for  all  tlie  mercies  which  have  borne  us  on  from  day  to  day.  We 
e.vpress  in  t'.ieir  behalf  who  arc  now  present  to  give  thanks  to  thee,  their  sincere  thanks  for  thy 
sparing  kiadaess.  Thou  Iiast  borne  many  through  sickness.  Thou  hast  carried  many  close  upon 
passages  of  danger.  Thou  hast  caused  them  to  drink  of  the  cup  of  affliction  and  of  pain,  and,  be- 
hold, "tliy  hand  also  hath  put  away  the  trouble  ;  a-ad  they  are  qualified  again  to  walk  forth  in  the 
accustomed  way  and  duty  of  life,  restored  to  health  and  to  strength  and  to  hope.  And  this  morn- 
ing they  are  gathered  together  in  this  place,  with  glad  hearts,  and  with  thoughts  tliat  they  could 
not  speak  of  gratitude  to  thee.    Accept  tlieir  mute  tliought  and  tlieir  unspoken  love  and  gladnesa 

Be  present,  we  beseech  of  thee,  this  morning,  to  those  that  come  up  liither  without  light  and 
-without  joy  and  without  hope.  But  why  should  the  children  of  the  King  go  all  their  days  in  sor- 
row '/  dh  !  speak  to  thine  own.  Grant  that  they  may  hear  thy  voice  tcT-day  chiding  tlieir  fears. 
May  they  feel  thee  lifting  up  their  bent  forms  under  their  burdens.  And  though  they  have  often 
wondered  that  their  unanswered  prayers  seemed  not  to  be  heeded,  and  that  the  burden  was  stiU 
heavy,  say  to  them  to-day,  O  thou  Master  I  "  What  I  do  now  ye  know  not ;  ye  shall  know  here- 
after." Ami  may  they  iiave  the  sovereign  joy  of  knowing  that  they  are  under  the  dealing  liand 
of  God.  No  chance  rudely  hustles  them  in  life.  Their  darkness  is  not  the  darkness  of  a  life 
■wandering  unleaded  and  uugoverned.    They  are  still  under  the  care  of  a  loving  Father. 

Thou  that  guidest  the  storm-cloud  and  the  wind — shalt  thou  forget  thine  own  ?  And  shall  that 
hand  never  be  reached  out  to  succor  that  was  reached  out  to  be  pierced  ?  Oh  !  manifest  thyself  to 
thy  s-iifferiu';  ones,  and  say,  "  Though  for  the  present  it  is  not  joyous,  but  grievous,  afterward  it 
shall  work  out  the  peaceable  fruit  of  righteousness." 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  blessing  this  morning  to  those  from  whose  vision 
the  world  is  fading.  Let  it  not  be  unto  blindness,  but  as  the  one  picture  is  going,  as  the  earth 
recedes,  oh  !  may  they  begin  to  see,  with  more  and  more  distinctness,  the  lines  and  colors  of  that 
blessed  vision —the  hea verily  city,  ^lud  we  pray  that  as  old  age  is  bringing  some  with  trembling 
steps  near  to  the  boinds  of  life,  as  weakness  and  sickness  and  trial  are  bringing  others  into  mid- 
life, and  as  some,  pale  and  paUid  even  in  youth,  are  ordered  unto  death,  grant  that  aU  such  may 
have  ministered  unto  them  the  true  vi-^ion  of  joy  and  of  gladness  which  lies  over  and  beyond  this 
mortal  horizon.  May  they  see  the  invisible,  and  may  they  take  hold  upon  the  unsubstantial,  and 
find  by  fiiitli  the  true  treasure  while  other  things  are  dropping  from  their  nerveless  grasp. 

We  beseech  of  thee,  if  there  be  those  this  morning  whose  hearts  are  weighed  do^\  n  \^ith  con- 
scious sinfulness  ;  who  are  ashamed  and  remorseful ;  who  come  before  thee  half  discouraged,  half 
penitent,  yet  not  at  rest ;  who  confess  more  than  they  forsake — who  strive  to  forsake,  more  than 
they  succeed,  their  sins  ;  who  are  fighting  the  battle  of  puritj' — grant  that  they  may  have  the  mo- 
nitions of  thy  pity.  Say  to  them  that  tholi  art  not  stern.  Only  say  to  them  that  thou  art  the  Cap- 
tain of  their  s.dvation.  In  all  this  conflict,  though  invisible,  thou  art  not  far  from  them.  And 
thou  art  not  discouraged  because  they  are.  And  may  they  gird  up  their  loins  again.  May  they 
resist  once  more,  -with  firmer  courage,  their  easily  besetting  sins.  May  they  seek  for  victories  at 
last  where  they  have  inherited  so  many  defeats,  looking  unto  Jesus,  the  Author  and  Finisher  of 
their  faith.  At  last  may  they  find  in  him  that  victory  which  the.\-  can  not  achieve  themselves. 
Have  compassion  upon  those  who  are  seeking  to  live  a  Christian  life,  and  yet  are  not  instructed ; 
whose  way  is  obscure  ^  Avho  are  filled  at  times  with  doubts  and  unbelief;  who  are  carried  away 
as  -with  mighty  tides  ot  temptation  ;  and  yet  who  desire  to  walk  in  the  footsteps  of  Christ.  Teach 
them  the  way.  Gird  them  v\  itli  strength,  that  they  may  walk  therein.  And  may  their  light  shine 
brighter  and  brighter  imto  the  perfect'day. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  tliou  wilt  bless  all  classes  and  conditions  that  are  in  thy  presence. 
Remember  the  young.  Grant  that  they  may  grow  up  uncontaminated  into  a  pure  and  Christian 
manhood,  llemember  tiioso  that  arc  in  the  niidst  of  life,  and  that  are  hi  thy  providen..'e  bearing 
the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day.  May  they  be  good  soldicfs,  and  soldiers  of  Christ,  liemember 
the  aged,  and  comfort  them  in  their  afllictions."  If  they  see  the  world  passing  from  them  ;  if  the 
friends  that  were  their  company  once  are  thinning  out :  if  they  have  less  and  less  of  society,  and 
more  and  more  of  solitude,  what  matters  it  to  them,  who  are  but  a  hand  breadth  away  Irom  the 
general  assembly  and  the  church  of  tlie  first-born  in  heaven  ?  But  oh  !  if  there  be  any  who  have 
weh-nis;a  used  all  that  there  is  of  this  Viorld,  and  have  no  right  or  portion  ui  the  world  that  is  to 
come  :  if  th-^re  are  any  old  here,  that  have  no  heaven,  have  mercy  upon  them.  And  tliough  it  be 
the  eleventh  hour,  bring  them  into  the  kingdom  of  love,  that  they  may,  even  at  the  last  moment, 
inherit  th  ^  oromises. 

We  pray  that  thou  "wilt  revive  thy  work  in  the  hearts  of  all  thy  people.  Grant  that  the  word 
spoken  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath  may  be  victorious.  May  the  thoughts  that  have  been  slowly 
gathering  in  many  hearts  at  last  come  to  a  consummation.  May  men  forsake  their  evU  ways. 
May  those  Vvho  have  long  thought  of  flying  higher,  at  last  fly. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,"that  all  those  cleansings  of  the  household,  all  those  restraints  of 
disposition.  ;',11  those  bindings  and  imprisonments  of  lawless  passions  ■s\'hieh  men  have  long  con- 
templated, at  last  may  take  place  in  their  hearts.  And  we  pray  that  ive  may  hear  the  voices  of 
man,'  asking:  for  the  better  way,  and  rejoice  to  see  multitudes  walking  therein.  May  thy  name 
be  glorified  in  this  congregation. 

Bless  all  the  churches  that  worship  to-day.  Bless  all  those  that  preach.  Bless  thy  cause  in 
all  its  forms.  Remember  our  colleges  and  academies  and  schools.  Remember  those  that  teach 
in  higher  or  lower  semhiaries  of  instruction.  Be  near  to  those  that  are  ignorant.  Let  the  light 
of  thy  kindling  shine  over  all  this  nation,  until  there  shall  be  none  to  be  enfranchised  ;  until  all 
shall  be  instructed  ;  until  the  glory  of  the  Lord  shall  fill  this  land  as  the  waters  fill  the  sea. 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  me  praise,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Amen, 


Hekrt  Wakd  Beecher  on  Olt>  Clothes. 
In  referring  U>  tlie  happiness  of  early  house- 
keeping, Henrj'  "Ward  Beecher  recently  eaid  in 
the  pulpit — 

"I  would  not  give  up  the  first  two  years  of 
my  married  life  for  all  I  have  now.  I  live  in 
a.  "big  house,  with  a  browustone  front,  and 
Tcry  fairly  furnished;  but,  after  all,  among  the 
choicest  experiences  of  my  life  were  those  which 
I  passed  through  in  Indiana,  when  I  hired  two 
chambers  up  stairs;  when  all  my  furniture  was 
given  to  me,  and  was  second-hand  at  that;  and 
when  the  very  clothes  which  1  had  on  my  back 
had  been  worn  by  Judge  Biruej'  before  me.  We 
ivere  not  able  to  "hire  a  servant.  We  had  to  serve 
ourselves.  It  was  a  studj'  every  daj'  how  to  get 
along  with  our  small  means — and  it  was  a  stud}' 
never  to  be  forgotten.  I  owe  many  of  the 
pleasures  which  have  ran  thri)ugh  my  life  to 
being  willing  to  begin  where  1  had  to  begin, 
and  to  fight  poverty  with  love,  and  to  overcome 
it,  and  to  learn  how  to  live  in  seiTice  and  help- 
fulness, and  in  all  the  thousand  ingenuities 
which  love  sweetens  and  makes  more  and  more 
delightful." 

Is  there  another  clerg}'man  in  the  country, 
of  any  degree  of  prominence,  who  would  sta ad 
up  in  the  pulpit,  before  a  fashionable  audience, 
and  say  that  the  very  clothes  he  once  had  oa 
bis  back  had  been  worn  bj^  Judge  Birnej'  before 
him!  Is  it  any  wonder  that  Jlr.  Beecher  is  be- 
loved by  the  people?    [New  Tork  Ledger. 


XI. 


THE   LOVE   OF  MONEY 


PLIMOUTH  CHURCH. 


The  Sociable    Last  ETenlnsT* 

The  usual  monthiy  social  of  the  Plymouth 
Association  took  place  last  ev^ening,  in  the 
Sabbath-school  room.  The  entertainment 
was  gotten  up,  as  far  as  posaible,  after  the 
manner  of  similar  affairs  in  England.  There 
was  an  English  tea  prepared  in  the  church 
parlors,  which  COB sistcd  of  breaJ  and  butter, 
not  much  thicker  than  a  sheet  of  note  paper, 
watercresses,  celery,  cake,  and  a  cup  of  strong 
Congo,  softened  with  the  richest  of  crc&m.  The 
English  tea  was  pronounced  a  decided  suo- 
ceea  by  the  five  hundred  young  (and  old)  peo- 
ple who  were  there  and  sat  as  jurors  over  it. 
This  important  part  of  the  entertainment  over 
there  was  a  rapid  movement  to  the  school 
room,  which  had  been  elegantly  decorated 
with  school  fla&rs,  bunting,  evergreens,  flow- 
ers, etc..  by  Moses  Beach,  Esq.,  and  Miss 
Beach. 

Old  English  games  were  then  indulged  in  by 
the  children  ;they  were  tied  up  in  sacks  and 
set  off  racing  ;  others  were  blindfolded  and 
tried  to  catch  each  oiner  ;  some  amused  them- 
selves rolling  wheelbarrows,  whilst  all  engag- 
ed in  some  game  or  other. 

The  old  and  staid  portion  of  the  party  look- 
ed at  the  ttne  engravings  tiungabout  the  room, 
participated  in  the  singing  and  piano  music, 
and  marvelled  at]the  wonders  revealed  by  Mr_ 
S.  V.  White's  microscope,  which  magnifleda 
hair  to  the  size  of  a  gas  pipe. 

The  utmost  enjoyment  and  sociability  pre- 
vailed throughout  the  evening,  and  after 
three  or  tour  hours  of  unalloyed  pleasure,  the 
company  separated. 


_  Reported  for  the  CongregationaUit.'\ 

OUR    DUTY    TO    SINIfEES. 

A    Lecture-Room     Talk. 

.  BY  HEKRT    WASD   BEECHER. 

One  of  the  most  grateful  things  to  intel- 
ligent aflection,  is  to  see  our  wishes  quietly 
reflected  in  the  performance  of  our  friends; 
to  know  that  the  things  which  we  want 
done,  are  done  without  words.  This  is  a 
compliment,  and  gratifies  our  affection. 

There  were  two  kinds  of  motives  that 
Christ  always  appealed  to,  the  nature   of 
things,  and  regard  for  Him  personally.    If 
when  at  twilight  or  the  morning  hour,  we 
pray  to  God,  I  have  no  doubt  it  falls  sweet- 
ly on  His  listening  ear.    But  there  are  oth- 
er things  that  come  nearer  than  prayer.    If 
He  sees  any  one  attempting  to  inculcate 
the  spirit  He  taught,  in  their  intercourse 
with  men,  this  is  infinitely  more.    We  are 
told  to  lay  down  our  lives  for  each  other. 
Dying  is  one  of  the  easiest  things  a  man  is 
called  to  do.    This  is  one  of  the  efi'ects  of 
large  living.    To  lay  one's  life  down  with 
its  aspirations,  its  heart-aches,  hopes,  fears 
and  agonies,  is  often  times  more  of  a  re- 
lease than  a  task.    This  is  not  so   great  as 
carrying  your  life  for  another.    la  small 
neighborhoods,  there  is  not  so  much  need 
of  the  kind  of  work  I  am  about  to  speak  of, 
but  in  large  cities,  there  is  a  crying  necessi- 
ty for  persons  who  are  willing  to  labor  and 
suffer  in  the  «*ause  of  reformation.    Here 
are  those  who  have  slipped  up  in  morals, 
who  are  lacking  in  truth  and  fidelity,  whose 
appetites  have  got  the  best  of  them,  men 
and  women  who  are  clear  off  the  track. 
Something  can  be  done  for  these  by  public 
means,  and  by  the  influences  of  the  family; 
but   there  comes    a  time  in  some  house- 
holds,   when  a  child  won't    let  anybody 
at  home    touch    him.      These    might    be 
saved  if  there  was  only  somebody  to   save 
them.    I  believe  it  is  the  living  man  alone 
who  can  cure  those  who  are  sick  in  this 
way.    A  whole  church  full  of  folks  can't  do 
i  it.    Somebody  should  undertake  to  be  what 
I  Christ  is  to  us  in  love  and  sympathy.  When 
'  they  are  rebuffed,  they  must  not  be  angry, 
but  go  again,  each  time  with  more  patience. 
When  they  are  lied  to,  they  must  not  give 
way  to  disgust,  but  keep  at  the  good  work. 
We  often  hear  men  say:  "  I  have  gone  far 
enough  with  that  worthless  scamp.    I  have 
tried— and  tried— and  there's  no  kind  of 
use  wearing  myself  out  in  any  such  hope- 
less cause."  Why,  the  trouble  is,  you  haven't 
done  anything,  you  haven't  gone  any  dis- 
tance.   What  we  want  is  somebody  who 
will  lay  down  their  lives  for  the  wanderer ; 
somebody  who  will  stick  to  him;  hold  on 
to  him ;  refuse  to  let  him  go.    Look  at  the 
mother.  The  father  is  out  of  patience  with 
the  boy  long  ago,  but  the  mother  would  do 
just  as  much  for  him  as  on  the  day  he  was 
born.    His  name  is  dearer  to  her  than  any 
other  on  earth.    Thousands  could  be  saved 
if  we  could  only  find  somebody  to  wrap  a 
warm  heart  around  them.    Siinpose  the 


sympathy  was  wasted  apparently,  and  we 
should  never  see  of  the  travail  of  our  soul, 
and  be  satisfied.  But  such  sympathy  can- 
not be  squandered,  it  is  impossible  to  waste 
it.  For  a  long  time  to  come  men  will  not 
need  to  study  artificial  ways  for  self-denial. 
The  world  is  too  full  of  poor  creatures  need- 
ing our  help  for  that.  At  the  conclusion  of 
Mr.  Beecher's  remarks,  Mr.  Bigelow  arose 
and  said,  that  we  were  commanded  not  to 
cast  our  pearls  before  swine,  citing  the  case 
of  EullofTjust  executed,  to  prove  that  some 
men  were  wholly  irredeemable.  He  wished 
to  know  if  it  was  not  extremely  necessary 
for  a  man  to  use  his  icommon  sense  in  such 
matters  ? 

Mr.  Beecher  replied,  of  course  it 
is.  I  should  not  advise  a  young  lady  of 
sixteen  to  attempt  to  reform  an  old  soul  of 
forty-five.  Neither  should  I  suggest  that 
you  open  your  private  houses  for  the  en- 
trance of  contagious  disease.  Common 
sense  must  walk  hand  in  hand  with  true 
piety.  As  for  Pailloff,  he  is  dead,  and  out 
of  the  newspapers,  and  for  the  last,  I  am 
truly  thankful.  When  a  man  commits  a 
crime,  he  becomes  a  hero  at  once,  and  we 
have  him  served  up  in  all  manner  of  dish- 
es, fried,  stewed,  and  fricasseed.  Then  we 
have  his  last  words  and  ihe  details  of  the 
execution,  and  people  gloat  and  gormandize 
over  it,  and  the  result  is  terrible.  When  I 
see  a  murder  column,  I  go  as  far  around  it, 
as  Iwould  around  a  horse  two  weeks  dead 
in  August." 

Brother  MacKaye  then  said  that  he  knew 
from  personal  experience,  what  it  was  to 
endeavor  to  raise  the  fallen,  and  fail  pretty 
generally ;  and  gave  an  exceedingly  inter- 
esting and  forcible  illustration  of  his  work. 
"  It  is  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world,  Mr. 
Beecher,"  he  continued,  "  for  you  to  sit  up 
there,  and  fire  away  at  a  long  range,  but  I 
don't  believe  you  know  much  about  this 
business  of  sticking  to  men  personally.  I 
have  heard  you  tell  a  story  several  times — 
I  hope  you  will  never  tell  it  again — of  a 
woman  who  went  into  a  grog  shop,  and 
putting  her  hand  on  the  shoulder  of  a 
drunkard  led  him  straight  out  to  repent- 
ance. It  is  all  a  humbug.  I  don't 
believe  a  word  of  it  nor  ever  did. 
I  know  too  much  about  these  men 
and  these  places  of  iniquity.  The  reforma- 
tion of  drunkards  is  the  hardest  work 
that  the  Lord  Himself  has  to  do.  The 
trouble  with  Brother  Bigelow  is  that  you 
ought  to  set  him  to  work." 

Mr.  Beecher  answe/ed, "  If  I  sit  down  to 
a  joint  of  mutton  and  find  that  the  first 
mouthful  is  tainted,  there  is  no  especial 
need  of  my  eating  all  there  is  on  the  dish. 
I  don't  think  I  need  to  wallow  in  all  these 
reformatory  stys  to  understand  the  need  of 
the  erring.  I  have  been  hitched  to  this 
work  for  forty  years,  and  I  know,  Brother 


Snot '  V^'^^    ^^^  ^I    •  ^-^^j  oxnos  japun  tioti 


THE    LOVE    OF    MONEY. 

SUNDAY  EVENING,  NOVEMBER  22,  18G8. 


"  Btit  tliey  that  will  be  ricli  fall  into  temptation  and  a  snare,  and  !ato  many 
foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  which  drown  men  in  destruction  and  perdition.  For  the 
love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil :  which  while  some  coveted  after,  they  have 
erred  from  the  faith,  and  pierced  themselves  through  with  many  ssorrows.  But 
thou,  O  man  of  God,  flee  these  things ;  and  follow  after  righteousn^wss,  godliness, 
faith,  love,  patience,  meekness." — 1  Tim.  vi.  9-11. 


There  "was  never  a  time  in  the  history  of  the  world  when  men 
needed  to  hear  these  solemn  monitions  of  Scripture  more  tban  to-day. 
So  wild  have  men  become,  and  so  fierce  in  their  pursuit  of  liches ;  so 
thoroughly  are  all  the  evils  developing  themselves  which  are  prog- 
nosticated in  the  Word  of  God,  that  even  the  commonest  observer 
begins  to  be  alarmed,  and  men  are  talking  among  themselves  of  the 
outrageous  extravagance  of  the  times.  It  is  a  matter  of  conversation 
in  the  household,  and  on  the  street ;  and  it  certainly  is  time  that  it 
should  be  a  matter  of  instruction  in  the  house  of  God. 

I  propose  then,  this  evening,  to  follow  the  line  of  thought — which 
is  almost  a  philosophical  deduction — contained  in  our  text.  You  will 
notice,  in  the  first  place,  the  emphasis  which  is  to  be  put  upon  the 
opening  of  this  passage. 

"  They  " — not  they  that  will  be  rich ;  because  riches  are  ordained 
of  God,  and,  rightly  held  and  rightly  used,  are  an  instrument  of  most 
beneficent  power,  salutary  to  the  possessor  as  well  as  to  the  recipient 
of  bounty — ''  They  that  will  be  rich  "  tohether  or  not  "  fall  into  temp- 
tation," etc.  Men  that  have  made  riches  the  chief  end  of  their  life, 
that  are  willing  to  give  every  thing,  and  to  sacrifice  every  thing  for 
it — it  is  of  such  that  the  Word  of  God  speaks.  Men  who  make  riches, 
not  an  instrument  of  life,  but  an  end  of  life — they  are  the  ones  that 
are  in  such  peril,  and  are  laid  under  such  reprehension.  Men  they 
are  who  will  not  scruple  to  sacrifice  every  virtue  and  every  excellence 

Lesson  :  Psalm  73.    Htmns  (Plymouth  Collection)  :  Nos.  180,  905,  500. 


164  THE  LOVE   OF  MONEY. 

for  the  sake  of  obtaining  it,  because  they  loill  have  it.  They  are 
willing  to  give  the  whole  force  and  power  of  their  being ;  for  they 
will  have  it.  They  would  prefer  to  have  riches,  if  it  might  be,  and 
maintain  honor  and  truth ;  but  nevertheless,  as  they  will  have  riches—' 
reluctantly  at  first,  easier  afterward,  without  a  scruple  finally — they 
will  sacrifice  honor,  and  they  will  sacrifice  truth.  They  will  have  it. 
They  are  men  who,  because  they  toill  be  rich,  can  not  be  conscientious ; 
and  who  learn  soon  to  say  that  most  beggarly  of  all  things,  "  A  man 
can  not  be  a  Christian  and  be  in  my  business."  How  came  you  m  it 
then  ?  And  how  came  you  to  remain  in  it  after  you  had  found  out  that 
which  should  turn  any  honest  man  out  of  it  ?  They  toill  be  rich,  and 
therefore  they  say  to  their  conscience,  "  Farewell,"  and  bear  themselves 
away  from  it,  as  a  child  would  from  his  father's  house.  Yea,  they 
have  not  time  to  cultivate  refinement ;  they  have  not  time  for  the 
amenities  of  life ;  they  have  not  time  for  their  household ;  they  have 
not  time  for  friendship ;  they  have  not  time  for  love.  And  so,  because 
they  will  be  rich,  they  give  up  their  heart  also.  And  because  their 
fellows  are  often  in  their  way,  and  must  be  overrun ;  because  in  a  fair 
conflict  they  can  not  overcome  them,  and  they  must  be  undermined ; 
because  in  open  rivalry  they  can  not  surpass  them,  and  they  must  be 
deceived,  and  hoodwinked,  therefore  friendship  is  sacrificed,  honest 
dealing  between  man  and  man  is  ignored,  and  every  sinister  course, 
every  dishonoi'able  trick,  every  unsusjaected  and  slippery  endeavor, 
which  stands  at  all  probably  connected  with  success,  is  freely  indulged 
in.  So,  men  that  loill,  at  all  hazards,  and  at  any  rate,  be  rich,  give  up 
honor,  faith,  conscience,  love,  refinement,  friendship,  and  sacred  trust. 
And  having  given  all  these  up,  God  blesses  and  blasts  them :  blesses, 
for  they  are  rich,  and  that  is  what  they  call  blessing ;  blasts,  because 
it  is  not  in  the  nature  of  God  himself,  without  an  absolute  change  of 
the  laws  by  which  he  works,  to  make  a  man  happy  who  has,  for  the 
sake  of  gaining  wealth,  divested  himself  of  those  elements  in  which 
happiness  consists. 

For  what  if  the  harp,  in  order  to  make  itself  blessed,  should  sell, 
first,  its  lowest  bass  string,  and  then  its  next  one,  and  then  its  next 
string,  and  then  its  next,  and  its  next,  until  finally  every  string  of  the 
harp  is  sold  ?  Then,  when  all  the  heaps  of  music  are  piled  up  before 
it,  and  it  wants  to  play,  it  is  mute.  It  has  sold  the  very  things  out 
of  which  music  must  needs  come.  And  men  that  loill  be  rich  give  up 
sensibility,  affection,  faith,  manhood,  coining  them  all,  emptying  tlieni- 
selves ;  and  when  they  get  possession  of  their  wealth,  what  is  there 
left  for  them  to  enjoy  it  with  ?  Their  marrow  is  gone.  There  is  no 
string  in  the  harp  on  which  joy  can  play.  And  there  is  no  spectacle 
that  at  once  is  so  melancholy  on  the  one  side,  and  that  so  vindicates 
divine  justice  on  the  other,  as  to  see  the  old  corrugated  wretch  who 


THE  LOVE  OF  MONEY.  165 

has  spent  his  whole  life  in  the  violation  of  faith  and  trust,  and  who 
has  made  himself  rich  at  last,  in  the  midst  of  his  bounty,  croakmg, 
wretched,  despairing,  bitter,  hateful  and  hating,  and  dying  as  a  viper 
dies  that  stings  itself. 

Not  only  will  they  who  icill  be  rich  sacrifice  every  thing,  but  they 
will  not  hesitate  to  do  every  thing  that  is  required — only,  as  men  that 
%oill  be  rich  require  impunity,  it  must  be  safe.  And  so  comes  the 
long,  detestable  roll  of  mining,  subterranean  conduct ;  the  secrecy  of 
wickedness ;  collusions,  plottings,  unwhispered  things,  or  things  only 
whispered;  that  long  train  of  webbing  conduct  which  makes  men 
insincere,  pretentious  hypocrites,  whited  se^^ulchres  that  are  fail-  with- 
out, but  that  inwardly  are  full  of  death  and  dead  men's  bones.  How 
many  there  are  who  have  violated  every  commandment  of  God,  and 
almost  every  law  of  men,  in  their  way  toward  badly-gotten  gains,  and 
yet  who  have  so  far  had  respect  for  the  opinions  of  theii-  fellows,  and 
so  far  desired  to  stand  well  among  men,  that  they  have  concealed  it 
all !  And  they  carry  themselves,  a  swollen,  bloated  mass  of  iniquity, 
under  fair  colors  and  fair  exteriors.  They  that  will  be  rich,  at  any 
rate,  and  at  all  hazards,  are  the  ones  of  whom  the  Apostle  speaks, 
when  he  says  that  they  shall  "  fall  into  temptation  and  a  snare,  and 
into  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts." 

Wall  Street  is  my  commentary.  Broadway  is  my  commentary. 
Life  is  a  better  commentary  on  the  practical  sides  of  the  Bible  than 
any  thing  else.  And  you  do  not  need  so  much  to  turn  and  ask  what 
the  Greek  is  in  this  passage ;  you  want  to  know  what  the  English  is. 
You  do  not  need  so  much  to  ask  what  is  the  construction,  as  to  go 
out  and  take  your  book  in  your  liand  and  see  if  these  things  are  so. 
Men  should  study  the  Word  of  God  in  its  practical  applications,  just 
as  the  young  medical  student  studies.  He  takes  his  text-book. 
There  is  the  description  of  morbid  conditions  of  bone,  or  muscle,  or 
skin,  and  he  goes  into  the  hospital,  he  reads  what  is  said,  and  he  com- 
pares the  facts  with  the  text ;  and  so  he  learns.  And  this  is  the  true 
way  to  study  the  Word  of  God  on  the  practical  sides.  Look  into  life 
and  see  whether  its  sayings  are  true. 

Let  us  follow,  then,  the  young  man  into  the  market.  He  has  sim- 
plicity, and  beauty,  and  purity,  and  honorable  intentions.  He  goes  as 
a  thousand  others  go,  at  first  without  intention  of  harm.  But  the  fire 
kindles.  He  begins  to  make  gain.  He  begins  to  talk  mainly  with 
those  who  make  gain.  The  fever  increases.  He  makes  easily.  He 
makes  imexpectedly  fast.  He  begins  to  say  to  himself,  "  Fool  that  I 
liave  been,  who  supijosed  that  it  was  a  secret  and  dillicult  thing  to 
make  money !" 

One  said  to  mc,  who  had  spent  some  forty  years  in  lionest  and 
ordinary  toil  in  commercial  life,  and  who  went  into  speculations  dur- 


166  THE  LOVE   OF  2rOXET. 

ino"  tlie  war,  "  I  have  been  all  my  life  fiuubling  and  blimcTering,  and  I 
have  just  learned  bow  to  make  money ;  and  now  I  can  make  just  as 
much  as  I  want."    And  to-day  be  is  a  banki-upt — tbank  God  ! 

Men  begin  at  first  to  make  a  Uttle ;  they  find  bow  easy  it  is ;  tbey 
enlarge  tbeu*  ambition ;  and  tbe  conception  dawns  upon  tliem,  "  Why 
am  not  I  one  of  those  who  are  appointed  to  be  millionaires."  In  the 
beginning  of  life  a  few  thousands  would  have  satisfied  their  ambition. 
Xow,  himdreds  of  thousands  seem  to  them  but  a  morseL  They  grow 
more  and  more  intense.  Xow  see  the  fulfillment  of  the  TTord  of  God. 
Temptations  begin  to  fall  upon  them.  They  begin  to  be  tempted  to 
make  a  fortune  quickly.  A  man  who  is  in  haste  to  be  rich  does  not 
reflect  that  he  shall  inevitably  fall  into  harm  and  destruction.  You 
can  no  more  make  money  suddenly  and  largely,  and  be  unharmed  by 
it,  than  a  man  coiild  suddenly  grow  from  a  child's  statm-e  to  a  man's 
statm'e  without  harm.  There  is  not  a  gardener  who  does  not  know 
that  a  plant  may  grow  faster  than  it  can  make  wood ;  that  the  cellular 
tissue  may  grow  faster  than  the  ligneous  consoHdation ;  and  that  then 
it  can  not  hold  itself  up.  And  many  men  grow  faster  in  riches  than 
they  can  consolidate.  This  alone  is  a  reason  why  men  should  not 
make  money  faster  than  they  know  how  to  organize  it,  and  them- 
selves to  it. 

Men  who  are  tempted  to  make  money  suddenly  are  almost  invari- 
ably obliged  to  traverse  the  canons  of  morality.  It  is  almost  impos- 
sible that  they  should  keep  themselves  to  moderation.  The  fatal  fire 
begins  to  bm-n  within  them.  Avarice  in  its  earbest  stages  is  not  hide- 
ous, though  at  the  bottom  it  is  the  same  serpent  thing  that  it  is  at 
last.  In  the  beginning  it  is  an  artist,  and  the  man  begins  to  think, 
"  I  will  redeem  my  parents.  Oh !  I  will  repurchase  the  old  home- 
stead. All  I  will  I  not  make  my  ■village  to  bud  and  blossom  as  a  rose  ? 
I  will  set  my  brothers  and  sisters  on  liigh.  TVbat  will  I  not  do  ?" 
How  many  things  do  men  jjamt  in  the  sky  which  clouds  cover  and 
winds  blow  away,  and  which  fade  out  with  the  morning  that  painted 
them !  I  have  noticed  that  men,  when  they  begin  to  make  money 
suddenly  and  largely,  carry  with  them  the  instincts  and  generosities 
of  their  youth ;  but  where  do  you  find  a  man  Avho  begins  to  make 
money  fast,  who  begins  to  pull  it  in  in  heaps,  who  begins  to  tliink  of 
large  interests  from  day  to  day,  who  shaves,  and  learns  to  look  upon 
men  simply  to  see  what  they  will  bear  when  put  imder  his  knife  and 
under  his  screw,  who  begins  to  bve  with  money,  and  to  gloat  his  eyes 
upon  money — where  do  you  find  such  a  man  that  does  not  begin  to 
have  narrower  feelings,  and  baser  feelinofs,  and  sordid  feelino^s,  and 
avaricious  feelings  ?     Avarice  grinds  a  man  like  emery. 

Such  men  begin  to  be  tempted  to  believe  that  success  atones  for 
faults — and  in  that  they  only  lean  to  the  prevalent  doctrine  of  the 


TEE  LOVE   OF  MOXEY.  IGT 

market.  For  he  vrho  contravenes  morality  and  fails  is  a  criminal, 
"while  he  Tvho  contravenes  morality  and.  succeeds  is  dexterous.  A  man 
that  fails  in  wrong-doing  is  a  fool.  What  I  stole,  and  was  f omid  out  ? 
What !  cheated,  and  lost  ?  What !  sold  himself,  and  did  not  get  the 
price  ?  These  things  are  despicable  among  men.  And  you  see  the 
spirit  that  is  coiled  up  at  the  bottorcu  The  serpent  maxim  is  this : 
that  success  atones  for  all  faults.  A  man  is  exonerated,  so  that  he 
goes  clear ;  so  that  he  carries  off  his  pile.  "  To  be  sure,"  men  say, 
"  there  was  something  wrong  in  it,  I  suppose ;  but  we  ought  not  to 
look  very  strictly  at  a  man  in  the  heat  and  strife  of  temptation." 
But  suppose  he  had  not  carried  it  off,  would  you  not  have  looked  at 
it  in  a  different  light  ?  If  a  man  gives  his  word,  and  forfeits  it,  and 
goes  under,  you  say,  "  It  is  a  righteous  judgment  on  a  liar."  If  a 
man  gives  his  word,  and  breaks  it,  and  carries  off  five  hundred  thou- 
sand dollars  in  the  operation,  what  do  men  say  ?  They  do  not  say 
any  thing  ! 

When  one  goes  into  a  nest  of  "  honorable  men "  that  mean  to 
fleece  the  whole  ignorant,  innocent  outside  public — into  a  nest  of  ten 
imconvicted  rogues,  that  mean  to  carry  stocks  where  all  the  commu- 
nity shall  be  squeezed  and  bled — they  are  bound  to  keep  faith  with 
each  other.  But  one  of  them  steps  out  and  sells  untimely,  and  cheats 
all  the  others,  and  gets  clear.  And  what  do  men  say  of  him  ?  They 
say,  "  He  is  smart."  He  sells,  meaning  to  cheat  the  others,  and  comes 
to  harm  himself.  What  do  men  now  say  ?  They  say,  "  He  is  fit  only 
for  a  gibbet."  He  sells,  and  is  the  only  one  that  escapes,  and  all  the 
rest  come  to  harm,  and  he  is  thought  to  be  a  "  brilliant  feUow."  "To 
be  sure  he  broke  faith,"  men  say ;  "  honor  is  due  among  thieves ;  but 
he  had  no  honor  even  among  thieves;  and  yet,  had  he  not  that  which, 
was  better  ?     Did  he  not  save  himself  ?  and  did  he  not  save  his  pile  ?" 

Men  are  tempted,  as  soon  as  they  get  into  this  terrific  fire  of  ava- 
rice, to  regard  morality  as  of  little  avail  compared  with  money-mak- 
ing. Tliey  are  dazzled.  However  honest  men  are  at  the  start,  how- 
ever generously  they  begin,  they  are  tempted  very  soon  toward  extra- 
vagant expectations.  Xay,  they  are  puffed  up ;  they  become  con- 
ceited. Tliey  are  the  subjects  of  over-swollen  hope.  They  become 
presumptuous. 

Oh  I  what  a  change  is  it !  What  mother  would  know  her  boy, 
come  back  again  ?  What  pastor  would  know  the  young  man  that 
once  he  took  by  the  hand,  whom  he  comforted  in  the  shadow  of  con- 
viction, and  whose  joy  he  remembers,  sweeter  than  the  birds  of  a 
summer  morning  ?  AU  promise  was  with  him,  and  all  hope  and  pre- 
monitions of  honor  and  substantial  usefulness.  He  has  gone  out  into 
life  a  little  way,  and  already  the  harpies  are  upon  him.  Tell  me  not 
that  there  is  no  carrion  where  I  see  the  sky  full  of  carrion-crows, 


168  THE  LOVE   OF  MOXEY. 

■waiting,  and  flying,  and  cawing  to  each  other,  and  circling  around 
some  centre.  Though  I  see  nothing,  I  kuow  what  is  there.  And  when 
I  see  young  men  surrounded  by  certain  harpies,  when  I  see  certain 
influences  circling  round  and  round  them,  though  I  may  not  know 
one  single  definite  fact,  I  do  know  that  ravens  know  where  corruption 
is.     "They  that  icill  be  rich  fall  into  temptation  and  a  snare." 

Tou  will  recollect  our  Saviour's  words,  "The  deceitfulness  of 
riches."  Men  are  snared  when  they  are  given  up  to  fiery  avarice. 
They  are  snared  because  the  very  things  by  which  they  propose  to 
gain  success  become  in  the  long  run  the  means  of  their  own  destruc- 
tion. A  lie  is  a  cheap  economy  in  the  beginning  ;  and  as  long  as  a 
man's  reputation  lasts,  a  lie  burns  as  well  as  any  other  wick ;  but 
then,  a  lie  is  a  veiy  short  wick  in  a  very  small  lamp !  The  oil  of  re- 
putation is  very  soon  sucked  up  and  gone.  And  just  as  soon  as  a 
man  is  known  to  lie,  he  is  like  a  two-foot  pump  in  a  hundred-foot 
welL  He  cannot  touch  bottom  at  all.  A  lie  is  cheap  profit  in  the 
beginning,  but  it  is  dear  in  the  long  run.  And  in  the  end  that  which 
men  think  to  be  so  adroit,  so  cunning,  is  a  snare  to  them.  And  you 
cannot  conceal  it  in  business  long.  Men  know  it  far  more  than  you 
think ;  they  know  it  sooner  than  you  think ;  and  they  know  it  who 
will  not  tell  you.  There  is  many  a  man  who,  if  he  could  see  himself 
as  othei's  see  him,  would  see  "  untrustworthy  "  written  on  liim.  And 
if  he  comes  into  your  oflice  you  say  to  youi-self, "  Xow  look  out !  Put 
yourself  on  your  giiard !"  Xo  matter  how  smooth  his  tongue  may 
be,  or  how  peaceful  his  fiice  is,  or  how  fiiir  his  jiromises  are,  your 
thought,  and  every  man's  thought  that  knows  him,  is,  "He  is  a  quick- 
sand. It  will  not  do  to  put  your  foot  on  him,  or  repose  any  trust 
in  him.     He  will  lie."    He  is  caught  in  his  own  snare. 

Cheating  is  another  snare.  Xo  man  cheats  once  without  cheating 
twice.  Like  a  gun  that  fires  at  the  muzzle  and  kicks  over  at  the 
breach,  the  cheat  hurts  the  cheater  as  much  as  the  man  cheated. 
Cheating  is  a  snare,  and  will  always  be  a  snare.  The  cheater  Mis 
into  it. 

Conceit  is  another  snare.  Men  lose  wisdom  just  in  proportion  as 
thev  are  conceited.  It  is  astonishing  to  see  how  conceited  men  are 
in  power.  Thousands  of  men  have  perished,  and  they  know  it  in  a 
o-enei'al  way ;  and  yet  they  say,  "  Oh  !  they  were  fools ;  I  am  not  go- 
ing to  pei'ish."  Thousands  of  men  have  been  burned  up  in  flames 
such  as  these  men  are  kindling  ;  yet  these  men  say,  "  Of  course  they 
were  burned  ;  but  then,  they  were  mere  shavings  and  tinder  :  I  am 
heart  of  oak,  and  I  am  not  going  to  burn."  Conceit !  They  see  that 
the  way  is  strewn  along  with  victims,  and  that  danger  threatens  at 
every  point ;  and  they  have  no  better  pilot  than  they  had  who  per- 
ished ;  they  have  no  insurance,  and  no  guarantee ;  but  they  are  so  con- 


THE  LOVE   OF  MOXET.  169 

ceited  that  they  will  not  take  heed,  and  will  not  believe  that  they  may 
not  be  able  to  carry  out  what  others  have  failed  to  carry  out.  Men,  as 
soon  as  they  begin  to  get  a  taste  of  riches,  and  to  make  money  fast — 
how  smart  they  are  !  and  how  smart  tbey  feel !  They  thank  nobody 
for  advice ;  and  least  of  all,  they  thank  the  minister  for  advice. 
"  What  does  he  know  ?"  they  say.  "  Why  does  he  not  attend  to  the 
Gospel?  Why  does  he  not  attend  to  things  that  concern  him? 
What  does  he  know  about  me,  and  about  my  business  ?"  If  the  old 
father  cautions  them,  they  say,  "  Father,  it  is  a  different  time.  We 
are  in  a  different  age  of  the  world."  They  know  more  than  their 
father  or  their  mother.  Old,  wise  merchants  sometimes  shake  their 
heads.  "  Well,  but  they  are  old  fogies.  If  they  had  started  in  my 
time,  and  had  pursued  their  courses,  they  never  would  have  got 
money."  Conceit!  conceit!  Here  is  the  very  place  where  a  man 
who  began  with  them  perished  ;  and  they  look  upon  his  grave,  and 
hop  over  it,  and  go  on.     Conceit !  self-conceit ! 

And  so  a  man  is  snared  by  his  own  folly. 

Oh  !  it  is  a  mournful  thing  to  see  men  perish  ;  and  yet  sometimes 
there  is  a  cei'tain  grim  pleasure  in  it.  One  can  not  bear  to  see  God's 
everlasting  laws  of  equity  set  at  defiance,  and  no  punishment  follow. 
And  when  transgressors  are  picked  off  in  the  presence  of  the  world, 
and  they  are  shaken,  and  their  bones  rattle  before  men,  there  is  a  sort 
of  awful  pleasure  in  it.  And  yet,  of  all  the  things  that  perish  on  the 
earth,  not  the  perishing  of  temples,  not  the  destruction  of  pictures, 
not  the  fracture  of  costly  marbles,  not  the  ruin  by  earthquakes  of 
cities  or  of  villages,  is  half  so  sad  and  so  melancholy  as  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  young  that  are  going  down  in  our  midst  from  day  to  day. 
Children  of  prayer  !  Oh  !  what  mothers  rocked  their  cradles  ;  oh  ! 
what  tears  have  baptized  their  young  faces  !  Oh  !  what  hopes,  like 
roses  in  the  spring,  have  circled  them  round  about,  and  wreathed 
them!  How  beauteous  were  their  aspirations !  How  fair  their  bud- 
ding !  How  noble  the  promise  I  How  mischievous  the  snare  !  How 
utter  the  destruction !  How  melancholy  the  reminiscence  !  And  yet 
these  things  are  taking  place  right  before  us.  And  am  I  to  blame 
because  I  would  fain  lift  up  a  voice  of  warning,  of  denunciation, 
of  doom  ?  "  They  that  will  be  rich  fall  into  temptation  and  a  snare, 
and  into  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts." 

Even  suppose  one  has  pursued  his  course  with  some  success  thus 
far,  see  how  now  this  fulfills  the  Word  of  God  also.  Men  live  under 
such  circumstances,  and  under  such  a  temperature  of  desire,  that 
the  fire  of  every  passion  is  kindled  in  them.  I  know  that  there 
are  cold  men  and  calculating  men  who  do  not  give  way  to  their 
lusts ;  but  there  are  a  great  many  softer  natures  who  can  not  go 


170  THE  LOVE   OF  MONET. 

through  the  fire  that  I  have  been  speaking  of,  without  being  prepar- 
ed for  further  steps  on  the  downward  course. 

I  have  noticed  how  soon  those  that  ^clll  be  rich  at  any  hazard,  fall 
into  drinking  habits.  Men  that  began  life  temperate  ;  young  men  of 
temperate  parents ;  young  men,  all  of  whose  associations  are  sober 
and  temperate — of  such  young  men  by  and  by,  to  the  amazement  of 
all  that  knew  them,  it  comes  out,  "  Do  you  know  that  your  friend  is 
in  the  habit  of  daily  stimulation  ?"  After  every  great  operatiou,  he 
and  his  companions  go  down  to  the  corner.,  and  have  a  good  time 
there  behind  the  screen.  Every  day,  on  their  May  home,  they  fulfill 
their  duty  to  their  god.  Every  day,  and  many  times  a  day,  and 
with  larger  and  larger  acquaintance,  and  more  and  more  marked 
results  upon  their  health,  and  upon  their  morals,  and  upon  their  dis- 
position, they  give  way  to  drinking.  They  have  come  into  a  sphere 
in  which  they  begin  to  fall  not  simply  into  "  temptation  and  a  snare," 
but  into  divers  "  lusts." 

And  with  drinking  come  many  other  things.  Drinking  is  the 
devil's  key ;  and  there  is  not  a  lock  of  evil  that  it  does  not  unlock. 
Noticeably  I  have  observed  among  those  who  are  in  haste  to  be  rich, 
iTi  New-York  and  Brooklyn,  that  with  drinking  break  out  sporting 
pleasures,  and  all  their  concomitants.  Young  men,  that  are  in  the 
very  morning  of  life,  become  joined  to  evil  companions.  They  be- 
come, as  it  is  called  in  the  language  of  the  woi'ld,  "  flash  characters," 
or  are  surrounded  by  them.  I  do  not  object  to  one  that  has  pleasure 
m  a  horse.  Neitlier  do  I  object  to  the  develoj^ment  of  that  which 
God  gave  to  a  horse.  If  he  has  sj)eed,  I  do  not  regard  fast  driving 
as  a  sin.  Provided  that  quality  is  easily  in  the  horse,  there  is  no  sin 
in  developing  it.  It  does  not  hurt  an  eagle  to  fly.  He  was  made  to 
fly.  To  drive  an  ox  raj)idly  is  great  cruelty ;  but  to  drive  a  race- 
horse rapidly  need  not  be  great  cruelty.  It  may  be,  but  it  need  not 
be.  And  I  do  not  object  to  a  man's  filling  his  stable  with  noble 
steeds,  if  he  has  leisure  and  money  ;  or  to  his  deriving  pleasure  from 
rapidity  of  motion  ;  but  to  see  a  man  in  the  early  period  of  his  life, 
before  his  means  will  permit  it,  driving  day  after  day  in  bad  company, 
stopping  in  drinking-places,  dressed  so  as  to  catch  the  eye,  and  so  as 
to  mark  him  in  the  view  of  every  judicious  person,  and  flying  along 
the  road  headlong  and  heedless,  is  an  almost  certain  sign  that  he  has 
fallen  under  temptation  of  lusts,  and  of  society  that  ministers  to  lusts. 

Now  comes  extravagance.  With  extravagance  come  many  more 
mischievous  lusts.  With  this  intensity  that  has  been  wrought  by 
business,  that  now  is  carried  out  into  all  the  intensity  of  stimulation, 
that  adds  to  it  intensity  of  pleasure,  that  feels  the  pulse  going  down, 
unless  one  is  surrounded  by  the  most  intense  stimulus,  how  soon  does 
dissipation  take  hold  of  licentiousness !     And  wben  you  see  a  man 


TEE  LOVE   OF  MONEY.  171 

given  to  licentious  indulgence,  you  may  be  sure  that  he  will  come  to 
want  a  crust.  Mark  that  man.  Poverty  is  on  his  track  ;  and  he  shall 
be  surely  overcome  and  destroyed  by  it.  And  I  ask  you  to  look  out 
uj^on  the  circle  of  your  acquaintance.  Men,  brethren,  fathers,  are 
there  within  the  reach  of  your  influence  no  young  men  who  are  going 
doAvn  these  ways,  and  who  have  evidently  this  terrible  disease  upon 
them  ?  They  will  be  rich ;  and  they  have  fallen  into  "  temptations," 
into  "  snares,"  and  into  many  "  hurtful  lusts."  And  what  do  these 
hurtful  lusts  do?  They  drown  men  in  "destruction;"  that  is,  in 
"  perdition  ;"  that  is,  in  eternal  damnation. 

ISTow  comes  the  world-quoted  maxim,  "  The  love  of  money  is  the 
root  of  all  evil."  It  is  as  if  the  Apostle  had  moralized.  He  draws  a 
picture  ;  and  then  he  seems  to  stand  and  look  upon  it,  and  say,  "  The 
love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil." 

"We  are  not  to  understand  that  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil ;  but 
the  love  of  it — bestowing  that  which  we  have  a  right  to  bestow 
only  on  undying  and  immortal  qualities,  upon  God,  and  angels,  and 
men — bestowing  love,  idolatrously,  u2:)on  material  gain.  It  is  not  true 
that  all  evil  in  tlie  world  springs,  in  some  way,  directly  or  indirectly, 
from  money ;  but  it  is  true  that  there  is  no  evil  to  Avhich  at  one  time 
or  another  love  of  money  has  not  temj^ted  men. 

It  is  not  said  that  all  evil  springs  from  this  cause  ;  but  at  one  time 
and  another  this  may  become  the  cause  of  all  evil.  It  has  corrupted,  in 
its  time,  every  faculty,  and  every  relation  in  which  a  man  stands  con- 
nected with  his  fellows.  It  has  divided  families,  it  has  parted  friend- 
ships, it  has  corrupted  purity.  The  love  of  money,  often,  is  stronger 
than  the  love  of  kindred.  See  children  utterly  rent  asunder  and  quar- 
reling over  a  will!  See  how  natural  affection  is  extinguished!  I 
have  seen  a  terrifically  strong  etching  from  a  German  hand,  of  a  deer 
that  lay  dying,  not  quite  dead,  about  which  the  eagles  were  gathered, 
one  hovering  above  him,  another  perched  on  the  right,  and  another  a 
little  further  off,  and  all  sure  of  their  prey,  but  waiting  until  the  last 
gasp.  How  often  does  the  old  man  linger  unconscionably  long  !  and 
how  do  the  children  wait,  and  wonder  that  he  does  not  die  !  "  Father 
is  remarkably  tough,"  says  one.  "  The  old  man  will  never  give  out," 
says  another.  Who  is  this  "  old  man  "?  It  is  their  own  father,  that 
reared  them  in  their  young  days,  and  taught  them  the  way  of  life. 
But  he  holds  in  his  hands,  too  tightly  for  them,  the  j^urse-strings ;  and 
they  are  sitting  about,  like  so  many  vultures,  waiting  for  their  victim 
to  die,  that  they  may  pick  his  bones.  Oh !  the  love  of  money — how 
it  extinguishes  natural  affections  !  "What  crimes  or  vices  were  ever 
known  that  it  has  not  led  men  to !  What  is  there  of  selfishness,  or 
pride,  or  vanity,  or  deceit,  wliat  is  there  in  wickedness,  what  is  there 
in  meanness,  what  is  there  in  treachery,  that  money  has  not  been  ac- 


172  TEE  LOVE   OF  MONEY. 

cessory  to  ?  To-day  almost  every  crime  that  has  put  a  man  in  Sing 
Sing  has  bad  money  at  the  bottom  of  it.  Almost  every  crime  that 
fills  our  jails  has  money  at  the  bottom  of  it.  To-day  the  whole  Atlan- 
tic seaboard  is  covered  with  smuggling.  Money  !  The  whole  land  is 
a  Pandemonium  of  swindling.     Money  ! 

"  They  that  loill  be  rich  fall  into  temptation  and  a  snare,  and  into 
many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,  which  drown  men  in  destruction  and 
perdition.  For  the  love  of  money  is  the  root  of  all  evil;  which,  while 
some  coveted  after,  they  have  erred  from  the  faith,  and  pierced  them- 
selves through  with  many  sorrows." 

I  observe  that  as  men  come  into  this,  one  of  two  things  takes 
place :  they  forsake  the  house  of  God,  they  forsake  religious  society, 
because  either  they  have  no  taste  for  it,  or  because  it  irritates 
them,  or  annoys  them,  and  they  Avill  not  bear  the  restraint — moral 
restraint — which  goes  with  the  sanctuary  ;  or  else,on  the  other  hand, 
they  betake  themselves  to  religion,  because,  under  certani  circum- 
stances, religion  is  an  atonement  for  misconduct.  It  is  a  policy  of 
life-insurance  to  men  that  are  in  iniquity.  And  then,  when  men  are 
in  this  course,  you  will  often  find  that  if  there  is  a  religion  that  is 
other  than  spiritual  and  personal,  they  will  incline  to  that.  If  there 
is  an  officiating  priest  who  lets  things  go,  they  betake  themselves  to 
him.  Not  that  there  are  not  thousands  of  them  who  have  conscien- 
tious motives  ;  but  when  men  in  this  bad  case  come  to  religion,  they 
come  to  it  for  the  sake  of  emptying  their  consciences.  They  come  to 
it  as  to  an  equivalent  for  guilt.  They  come  to  it  as  to  an  insurance- 
policy.  It  is  not,  "What  is  true?"  but, "  What  will  make  me  feel 
good  while  I  am  a  wicked  man  ?"  that  they  seek.  They  err  from 
the  faith. 

But  now  comes  the  solemn  sentence,  "They  pierce  themselves 
through  with  many  sorrows."  I  wish  you  could  see  what  I  have 
seen.  A  sword  is  merciful  compared  with  the  sorrows  that  pierce 
men  with  pain  through  life.  I  would  not  suffer  the  pangs  that  I  have 
seen  men  suffer  for  all  the  money  that  could  be  heaped  upon  this 
globe.  Of  all  the  suffering  which  I  have  ever  seen,  that  has  been 
the  most  various,  the  most  exquisite,  the  most  unutterable,  the  most 
horrible  to  look  upon,  Avhich  has  been  taking  j)lace,  and  is  taking 
place  to-day,  and  will  take  f)lace  to-morrow,  and  Avill  take  place  for 
years,  in  the  hearts  of  men  that  have  pursued  this  course.  For  there 
comes  to  many  men  the  quick  overthrow  and  disaster  which,!  think, 
is  most  merciful,  where  men  have  made  haste  to  be  rich,  and  have  ap- 
parently heajDcd  up  to  themselves  riches  that  were  unsubstantial. 
For  this  is  one  of  the  snares,  that  men  lay  up  baubles  and  think  they 
are  property.  And  if  they  break  suddenly,  their  overthrow  brings 
a  great  deal  of  pain  at  times.     But  it  is  the  mildest  form. 


THE  LOVE   OF  MONET.  173 

Worse  than  this  is  the  slow  and  sure  coming  on  of  ruin  of  men 
who  not  only  thought  they  were  rich,  but  were  so ;  have  established 
tlieir  children  in  the  community,  and  have  secured  to  them  every 
advantage  in  society. 

Now,  if  a  man  might,  by  natural  gradations,  go  down  and  adapt 
himself  to  changes,  to  "  altered  circumstances,"  as  they  are  called,  it 
would  not  be  altogether  the  greatest  mischief  in  life.  But  that  is 
not  it.  A  man  is  intensely  ambitious ;  he  has  love  for  his  household 
(that  may  not  be  corrupted  yet  in  him  ;)  he  is  proud  ;  he  is  self-con- 
fident; he  is  persistent;  his  affairs  are  adverse  ;  he  battles  them; 
he  wrestles  with  difficulties.  Still,  week  by  week,  and  month  by 
month,  he  is  crowded  further  and  further  from  the  margin  of  prospe- 
rity. It  begins  by  and  by,  strangely  to  him  that  had  the  command  of 
uncounted  thousands,  and  who  felt  himself  to  be  a  prince  in  the  realm 
of  riches,  to  dawn  upon  his  mind  that  the  burdens  of  the  household 
are  more  than  he  can  carry.  He  dare  not  retrench  ;  for  that  would 
be  a  hint  to  his  creditors.  And  is  there  any  thing  in  this  world  that 
is  so  hideous  as  costly  apparel  worn  that  men  may  not  know  that 
you  are  carrying  a  beggar's  bones  under  it  ?  Is  there  any  thing  so 
hideous  as  a  great  house  and  brilliant  furniture  which  jow  are  obliged 
to  keep  up,  knowing  all  the  time  that  it  is  sinking  you  down  ?  You 
do  not  dare  to  adopt  economic  courses,  because  men  would  rush  in 
on  you,  and  take  possession  of  you.  And  so  men  go  under  false  ap- 
pearances. How  they  suffer !  When  certain  developments  are  com- 
ing upon  them,  which  they  see  moving  steadily  toward  them,  how 
they  fear  them  !  How  they  dread  them  !  How  night  after  night  they 
can  not  sleep  !     How  anguish  takes  possession  of  them  ! 

I  have  seen  the  strong  man  suffer  as  if  cramps  and  rheumatism 
had  possession  of  him ;  but  it  was  only  the  anguish  of  spirit  that  con- 
torted him.  God  spare  me  from  such  suffering  as  I  have  seen  when 
sure  desti'uction  was  coming  in  upon* a  man. 

Ah  !  if  a  man  is  going  to  be  ruined,  and  has  the  testimony  of  his 
conscience  that  he  has  been  an  honest  man,  there  is  some  alleviation 
to  his  suffering;  but  frequently  it  is  a  ruin  carrying  with  it  blight. 
Four  hundred  miles  came  a  pilgrim  to  me,  to  ask  me,  in  God's  name, 
to  save  him  by  raising,  through  lectures,  a  sum  of  money  that  would 
enable  him  to  put  back  what  he  had  taken  but  could  not  rej^ay.  The 
day  of  disclosure  was  coming — coming  like  an  armed  man — and 
every  hour  and  every  moment  it  stared  him  in  the  face.  He  stood 
high,  and  his  family  was  dear  to  him.  They  had  a  name  in  the 
whole  community.  And  oh  !  it  was  the  anguish  of  seeing  his  wife 
smitten  down ;  it  was  the  anguish  of  seeing  his  children  disgraced 
in  their  father's  name;  it  was  the  anguish  of  losing  his  reputation  as 
a  church  member  and  a  reforming  man  in  the  community.      And 


174  THE  LOVE   OF  MONEY. 

he  shed  tears  in  my  presence  like  rain,  and  wrung  his  hands  in  an- 
guish. God  spare  me  from  seeing  such  suffering  again ;  and  God 
spare  you  from  suffering  so.  And  yet,  are  there  not  men  here  who 
liave  suffered  that  compared  with  which  the  twist  of  gout  and  rheu- 
matism would  be  a  luxury  ?  The  awful  fear,  not  of  being  ingulfed 
in  poverty,  but  of  exposure ;  the  dread  of  shame ;  the  horror  of  dis- 
grace ;  the  terrible  ruin  that,  touching  you,  glances  off  upon  those 
that  are  more  than  yourself  to  you — your  helpless  children  and  your 
innocent  wife — when  I  see  these  things  that  are  so  often  intimately 
associated  with  the  earlier  stages  of  life ;  when  I  see  young  men 
go  down  into  their  courses,  with  every  thing  before  them  bright  and 
songful,  I  say,  "  Ah !  those  are  the  ways  the  beginnings  of  which 
are  fair  and  pleasant,  but  the  ends  of  which  are  death." 

Oh !  is  it  not  a  terrible  thing,  men  and  brethren,  to  hear  a  man, 
in  the  very  prime  of  life,  in  full  bodily  condition,  say,  as  I  have  heard  a 
man  say,  "  All  the  way  from  Buffalo  I  thought  to  myself,  '  If  I  could 
but  die  !'  and  I  went  out  on  the  platform  often,  and  was  on  the 
point  of  throwing  myself  under  the  wheels  "  ?  Is  it  not  a  terrible 
thing  to  see  a  man,  in  the  middle  of  life,  count  deatli  better  than  life  ? 
But  it  is  a  more  awful  thing  for  a  man  to  think  that  dishonor  is 
better  than  death.  There  are  circumstances  when  you  honor  a  man 
that  counts  his  life  cheap.  For  the  man  that  stands  upon  the  post 
of  duty  ;  for  the  man  that  undertakes  to  guard  innocence ;  for  the 
patriot  that  is  in  the  battle-field  iu  behalf  of  his  country ;  for  a  man 
that  is  standing  in  vindication  of  the  oppressed,  there  is  something 
magnificent  in  contempt  of  life.  But  for  a  man  that  has  crippled 
himself;  for  a  man  that  has  immanned  himself;  for  a  man  that  has 
gone  into  temptation,  and  is  pierced  through  with  many  sorrows ;  for 
a  man  that  has  come  to  that  state  of  degradation  in  which  he  says, 
"  My  misei-y  and  my  disgrace  are  greater  than  I  can  bear — a.t  night  I 
say,  'Would  God  it  were  morning,'  and  at  morning  I  say,  'Would 
God  it  were  night,'  and  all  the  time  I  say, '  Would  that  I  might  die ;'  " 
for  a  man  that  looks  at  death,  and  would  drink  the  cup  if  he  dared, 
that  looks  at  the  dagger,  and  that  talks  of  quicker  ways  of  taking 
himself  out  of  the  world — for  such  a  man  to  count  his  life  cheap  is 
terrible. 

How  many  men  am  I  talking  to  that  have  really  thought  about 
suicide ;  that  have  pondered  it ;  that  have  thought  of  the  quickest 
ways  of  getting  rid  of  one's  self?  How  many  men  have  been  so 
lashed  with  sorrow  that  they  have  thought  of  making  a  refuge  of 
the  grave — of  bolting  and  running  into  that  dark  coward's  refuge  ? 

There  is  Wall  Street,  thundering  on,  and  there  are  men  there  who 
are  going  through  all  these  courses  ;  and  is  there  notliing  that  shall 
speak  of  it?      O  thou  stone-front  and    high-lifted  steeple,  carrying 


THE  LOVE   OF  MONEY.  175 

on  it  the  cross !  O  Trinity  !  look  down  on  that  street.  Is  there  no 
word  that  shall  come  from  this  cold  and  heartless  stone?  Shall 
men,  looking  up  at  thy  majestic  beauty,  think  nothing  of  God,  and 
nothing  of  holiness,  and  nothing  of  him  that  hung  upon  that  gilded 
cross  ?  Woe  is  me,  that  there  should  be  such  thoroughfares  in  the 
midst  of  a  Christian  city ;  that  this  terrific  tragedy  should  be  con- 
tinually enacted  of  men  that  "  ^oill  be  rich,"  that  "  fall  into  tempta- 
tion and  a  snare,"  and  into  "  many  foolish  and  hurtful  lusts,"  which 
destroy  them,  and  carry  them  to  "  perdition,"  and  lead  them  to 
"pierce  themselves  through  with  many  sorrows;"  and  that  it 
should  be  unrebuked  and  unexj^osed. 

There  are  a  great  many  suicides  that  nobody  knows  about.  I  have 
been  called  to  attend  the  funerals  of  men  that  committed  suicide, 
where  it  was  known ;  and  I  have  been  called  to  attend  the  funerals  of 
men  that  I  believed  were  suicides,  where  it  was  hidden.  The  physi- 
cian was  prudent,  and  the  friends  hushed  it  up.  And  it  was  never 
in  their  biograj^hy  or  on  their  tombstone. 

There  is  something  that  is  not  worse  than  that,  but  that  has  a 
worse  appearance — ^and  that  is  when  men  are  driven  crazy.  While 
in  this  course  many  become  suicides,  many  others  go  crazy.  It  used 
to  be  raised  as  an  objection  against  revivals  of  religion  that  they  set  men 
crazy ;  that  religion  addled  their  heads.  Ah !  Ten  men  go  crazy  af- 
ter money,  Avhere  one  man  goes  crazy  in  religious  excitement.  And 
yet  nothing  is  said  in  the  papers  about  that.  There  are  many  men 
belonging  to  business  circles  in  New- York  ■who  "  stejD  out."  And 
what  is  the  matter  ?  "  Softening  of  the  brain."  Hardening  of  the 
heart  is  very  apt  to  end  in  softening  of  the  brain  !  Men  step  out  of 
the  ring.  What  has  become  of  them?  "  Gone  to  Bloomingdale  1" 
that  is,  gone  to  the  asylum.  There  are  many  whose  business  goads 
them  on,  whose  troubles  harass  them,  to  such  an  extent  that  some 
latent  tendency,  induced  or  inherited,  is  perhaps  developed  in  them, 
or  that  they  break  down  without  any  such  foregoing  tendency,  and 
become  insane.  And  shall  nobody  mark  these  things,  and  think  of 
these  things  ?  Is  it  enough  to  say  of  a  man,  "  Oh  !  he  has  gone 
crazy"  ?  Shall  nobody  say  "  How  ?"  Shall  nobody  take  young  men 
aside  in  the  streets,  and  say,  "What  is  the  matter  with  that  man?" 

Right  behind  all  these  instances,  young  men  follow  on,  putting 
their  feet  in  the  footpaths  of  those  that  went  before  them,  j^ursuing 
precisely  the  same  courses,  and  bent  on  the  same  issues  !  Young 
men,  full-flushed  and  conceited,  copying  these  fatal  examples,  and 
seeing  the  victims  going  out  at  the  other  end  of  the  street,  say,  "  Be- 
hold !  That  man  once  controlled  the  Avhole  money-market  of  New- 
Yoi-k,  and  now  he  is  a  pauper ! "  There  he  goes — the  old  conceited 
fellow.    He  has  buttoned  up  his  coat  by  the  only  two  buttons  that 


17G  THE  LOVE   OF  MONEY. 

are  left.  And  he  keeps  his  arms  down  that  you  may  not  look  through 
and  see  the  white.  The  white  seams  that  run  up  and  down  the  gar- 
ment he  can  not  brush  out.  Neither  can  he  brush  off  that  thread- 
bare, waxy,  oily  look  which  it  has.  And  he  goes  round  a  poor,  mise- 
rable imbecile.  Oh  !  that  that  man  could  be  kept  going  round,  with 
somebody  pointing  to  him  and  saying,  "  These  are  the  ends  thereof!" 
But  nobody  thinks  of  him  except  to  laugh  and  to  jeer,  and  then  go  on 
again.     Is  not  the  infatuation  of  these  things  astonishing  ? 

"Wealth  is  a  great  power  and  a  great  blessing  when  it  is  held  in  a 
truly  manly — that  is,  a  Chi'istian — way.  I  should  come  short  of  my 
duty,  I  should  misrepi'esent  my  opinions,  and  I  think  I  should  pursue 
a  course  that  is  not  moral,  if  I  left  you  to  suppose  that  I  am  making 
a  general  denunciation  of  wealth.  So  far  from  it,  I  regard  it  as  im- 
possible to  establish  a  community,  and  advance  them  in  civilization,- 
without  wealth.  I  believe  that  individual  men  can  prosper  without 
wealtli,  but  communities  can  not. 

Wealth  is  a  divine  power.  It  is  a  very  dangerous  power.  It  is 
therefore  all  the  more  to  be  controlled  ;  but  it  is  not,  therefore,  to  be 
unused.  And  as  long  as  we  have  such  eminent  names  in  our  midst 
of  men  that  are  rich  and  yet  honored,  they  ought  to  be  quoted,  to 
show  young  men  that,  if  they  become  rich  and  are  dishonored,  it  is  their 
own  fault.  Does  any  man  tell  me  that  if  a  man  be  rich  he  must  be 
bad  ?  Is  William  E.  Dodge  bad  ?  Is  Williston  bad  ?  Is  Peabody 
bad  ?  Is  Cooper  bad  ?  Is  the  imknown  benefactor,  Mr.  Rose,  who 
has  spent  nearly  two  millions  of  dollars  within  the  last  two  or  three 
years  for  charitable  purposes — utterly  iinkuown,  this  being,  perhaps, 
the  first  annunciation  of  it — is  he  spoiled  by  riches?  Is  Stuart, 
(R.  L.  Stuart,)  whose  name  is  connected  Avith  almost  every  benefaction, 
spoiled  by  his  riches  ?     Is  Mr.  Lenox  spoiled  by  his  riches  ? 

I  could  mention  names  nearer  home,  (these  are  somewhat  distant.) 
There  are  in  Xew-York  as  noble  a  band  of  rich  men,  as  noble  a  band 
of  men  in  all  moral  and  Christian  qualities,  in  high-mindedness  and 
unsullied  conscientiousness,  in  purity  and  beneficence  of  nature,  as 
there  are  that  live  on  tlie  face  of  the  earth. 

These  are  my  arguments  when  I  say  to  young  men,  "  Wealth 
does  not  need  to  corrupt  you,  and  all  the  more  shame  is  it  to  you  if 
you  are  corrupted  by  it,  or  corrupted  in  the  seeking  of  it." 

More  than  this,  wealth  slowly  earned  by  fair  labor,  by  skill,  by 
thought,  by  integrity,  is  a  crown  of  honor.  I  have  no  sympathy 
whatever  with  those  that  are  gibing  rich  men  promiscuously,  as  if  to 
be  rich  was  a  crime.  Where  a  man  has  achieved  wealth  by  fiiir 
equivalents,  where  he  has  given  time,  work,  skill,  for  M'hat  he  has 
got,  his  wealth  is  a  testimony,  at  once,  to  his  worth.  And  there  is 
many  a  man  who  has  a  right  to  be  proud  that  he  is  rich.     I  never 


THE  LOVE   OF  MONEY.  177 

feel  contempt  for  a  man  that  mildly  and  modestly  points  to  his  early 
days,  and  says,  "  I  was  very  poor,  but,  thank  God,  I  have  earned, 
myself,  honorably,  all  that  I  have." 

A  venerable  man,  about  one  year  ago  now,  was  introduced  to  me 
in  a  neighboring  province.  He  was  quite  old,  and  perhaps  said 
some  things  that  he  would  not  have  said  when  he  was  younger ;  but  it 
was  the  beautiful  volubility  of  old  age — for  his  thought  ran  on  the 
honesty  and  integrity  which  had  characterized  his  career.  When  he 
was  introduced  to  me  as  the  richest  man  in  all  the  region,  he  said, 
"  I  never,  Mr.  Beecher,  have  made  a  dollar  that  harmed  any  body  in 
my  life.  It  is  a  great  pleasure  for  me  to  think  that  all  my  riches 
have  been  made  without  putting  a  single  man,  to  my  knowledge,  in 
pain  or  suffering."  I  justified  that  man's  self-gratulation  and  pride. 
It  is  an  honorable  boast. 

Riches  are  indispensable  to  communities,  though  communities 
are  not  blessed  in  the  proportion  in  which  money  is  heaped  up  in  a 
few  hands,  but  in  the  proportion  in  which  money  is  diffused  through 
all  the  average  of  families.  Twenty  millions  of'  dollars  in  a  village 
does  not  make  that  village  rich  if  it  is  all  owned  by  two  men ;  but 
if  that  amount  is  spread  evenly,  all  over  the  village,  then  it  is  differ- 
ent. Money,  in  the  hands  of  one  or  two  men,  is  like  a  dung-heap  in 
a  barn-yard.  So  long  as  it  lies  in  a  mass  it  does  no  good  ;  but  if  it 
was  only  spread  out  evenly  on  the  land,  how  every  thing  would  grow  ! 
Money  is  like  snow.  If  it  is  blown  into  drifts,  it  blocks  up  the 
highway,  and  nobody  can  travel ;  but  if  it  lies  evenly  distributed, 
over  all  the  ground,  it  facilitates  every  man's  travel.  Wealth  is  good 
if  diffused,  but  not  if  hoarded. 

Where  men  live  in  communities  in  which  wealth  is  diffused,  it 
becomes  more  and  more  possible  for  individual  men  to  be  poor — that 
is,  not  to  have  riches — and  yet  to  have  the  substantial  elements  of 
honor  and  enjoyment.  A  man  may  be  honored,  and  yet  not  be  rich. 
You  do  not  need,  young  man,  to  become  very  rich  in  order  to  be  an 
honored  man.  In  the  long  run,  the  reason  why  men  who  are  rich  are 
honored,  is  that  their  riches  stand  for  integrity,  for  skill,  for  moral 
excellence,  for  social  excellence.  Wealth  is  the  exponent  of  these 
qualities  in  them.  You  may  have  some  other  exponent.  You  may 
show  yourself  to  possess  these  qualities  in  some  other  way  than  by 
your  wealth,  and  may  be  honored.  I  have  known  the  most  influen- 
tial men  in  communities,  and  they  were  the  men  who  were  without 
money.  Not  the  richest  men  are  the  most  influential  men  to-day  in 
iS  ew-York,  or  in  the  United  States.  A  man  may  be  happy,  and  yet 
not  be  rich.  I  think  that  as  the  world  goes,  there  is  more  happiness 
without  wealth  than  with  it.  I  do  not  believe  there  is  ever  a  time 
which  a  rich  man  looks  back  to  with  more  satisfaction  than  to  the 


178  TEE  LOVE   OF  MONEY. 

jjeriods  of  struggle  through  which  he  has  passed.  I  do  not  believe 
any  man  was  ever  happier  than  when,  having  married  early  (and 
early  marriages  are  usually  virtuous  marriages)  and  married  for  love, 
he  and  his  companion  went  down  into  life  together,  and  every  day 
was  a  day  of  engineering  to  fit  their  means  to  their  necessities,  in 
their  single  slenderly  furnished  room,  where  they  conferred  together 
how  to  put  scrap  with  scraj),  and  eke  out  pittance  with  pittance, 
and  every  thing  was  calculated  by  pennies.  How  often,  in  later  life, 
when  people  become  rich,  do  the  husband  and  wife  look  at  each 
other  and  say,  "  After  all,  my  dear,  we  never  shall  be  happier  than 
when  we  first  started  out  together."  Thank  God,  a  man  does  not 
need  to  be  very  rich  to  be  very  liaj)py,  only  so  that  he  has  a  treasure 
in  himself  A  loving  heart ;  a  genuine  sympathy ;  a  pure  unadul- 
terated taste ;  a  life  that  is  not  scorched  by  dissipation  or  Avasted  by 
untimely  hours ;  a  good  sound  body,  and  a  clear  conscience — these 
things  ought  to  make  a  man  happy.  Where  a  man  is  without 
ofleuse  before  God  and  men,  it  ought  not  to  be  possible  for  the  world 
to  make  him  unhappy.     But  I  can  not  dwell  on  that. 

A  man  may  be  iiseful  and  not  be  rich.  There  are  a  thousand 
things,  to  be  sure,  that  •\ve  can  not  do  without  riches.  "  Oh !  if  I 
was  rich,"  I  say  to  myself,  "  how  many  widows  would  I  rescue  from 
devouring  landlords  !  If  I  was  rich,  how  many  poor  would  I  supply 
with  coal !  If  I  Avas  rich,  how  many  men  would  I  start  in  business  !" 
The  Lord  will  not  believe  a  word  of  it.  He  will  not  trust  me.  He 
has  seen  too  many  men  who  promised  to  do  great  things  when  they 
should  get  money,  but  who  Avhen  they  got  it  Avould  not  do  a  thing ! 
Many  things  depend  upon  wealth ;  but  after  all  wealth  is  not  indis- 
pensable to  usefulness. 

The  village  schoolmistress,  who  never  had  but  two  dresses — 
one  for  week-days  and  one  for  Sunday,  and  kept  that  Sunday  dress 
fifteen  years  or  more,  surveying  it  every  week  carefully  from  top 
to  bottom — that  spent  her  time  teaching  the  children  of  the  village, 
gentle,  amiable,  unobtrusive,  not  asking  fame  nor  notice,  praying  for 
them,  praying  with  them,  watching  oy  them  when  they  were  sick, 
closing  the  eyes  of  some  of  them  when  they  died,  and  seeing  one 
after  another  of  them  married  and  becoming  fathers  and  mothers,  and 
rising  up  to  call  her  blessed — she  at  last,  well  stricken  in  years,  sickens 
and  dies,  and  all  the  neighborhood  pronounce  her  a  benefactress. 

Is  there  any  thing  more  beautiful  than  this  ?  Does  a  person  need 
to  be  rich  to  be  useful?  What  one  wants  is  to  be  incorrupt,  sincere, 
and  earnest,  and  to  do  good  to  men.  They  can  do  good,  though 
they  have  not  money. 

A  man  may  be  powerful  and  not  be  rich ;  for  ideas  are  more 
powerful  than  even  dollars.     Strong  as  is  money,  and  invincible,  yet, 


THE   LOVE   OF  MONEY.  179 

in  the  long  run,  I  tell  you  that  ideas  are  mightier  than  money. 
Tyrannies  are  overthrown  by  ideas.  Armies  are  defeated  by  ideas. 
Vast  organic  mischief  is  upturned  by  ideas.  Nations,  and  time  itself, 
are  overmatched  by  ideas.  And  a  man  that  fills  his  mind  with  sound 
knowledge ;  a  man  that  has  faith,  that  believes  something,  and  be- 
lieves it  earnestly,  and  believes  it  with  power,  and  goes  out  with 
this  intense  conviction  of  things — such  a  man  does  not  need  to  be 
rich.  He  is  richer  than  riches.  He  is  stronger  than  strength.  This 
is  a  kind  of  power  that  death  has  no  dominion  over.  Beino-  dead 
he  yet  speaketh.  That  is  the  blessedness  of  having  riches  of  the 
understanding. 

I  would  rather  have  written  that  hymn  of  "Wesley's, 
"  Jesus,  lover  of  my  soul, 
Let  me  to  thy  bosom,  fly," 

than  to  have  the  fame  of  all  the  kings  that  ever  sat  on  the  earth.  It 
is  more  glorious.  It  has  more  power  in  it.  I  would  rather  be  the 
author  of  that  hymn  than  to  hold  the  wealth  of  the  richest  man  in 
New- York.  He  will  die.  He  is  dead,  and  does  not  know  it.  He 
will  pass,  after  a  little  while,  out  of  men's  thoughts.  "What  will 
there  be  to  speak  of  him  ?  What  will  he  have  done  that  will  stop 
trouble,  or  encourage  hope  ?  His  money  will  go  to  his  heirs,  and 
they  will  divide  it.  It  is  like  a  stream  divided  and  growing  nar- 
rower by  division.  And  they  will  die,  and  it  will  go  to  their  heirs. 
In  three  or  four  generations  every  thing  comes  to  the  ground  ao-ain 
for  redistribution.  But  that  hymn  will  go  on  singing  until  the  last 
trump  brings  forth  the  angel  band ;  and  then,  I  think,  it  will  mount 
up  on  some  lip  to  the  very  pi-esence  of  God.  And  I  would  rather 
have  Avritten  such  a  hymn  than  to  have  heaped  up  all  the  treasures 
of  the  richest  man  on  the  globe.  A  man  may  be  very  useful  and 
very  influential,  and  not  be  rich. 

"Why,  then,  should  so  many  plunge  into  this  vortex?  "Why 
should  so  many  go  down  into  this  fiery  way  ?  Why  should 
so  many  young  men  think  it  necessary  to  make  sacrifices  and  pass 
througli  the  fire  of  Moloch,  for  the  sake  of  being  strong,  or  happy, 
or  great  ? 

If  God  calls  you  to  a  way  of  making  wealth,  make  it ;  but  re- 
member, do  not  love  money.  If  God  calls  you  to  make  Avealth,  do 
not  make  haste  to  he  rich  ;  be  willing  to  wait.  If  God  calls  you  into 
the  way  of  wealth,  do  not  undertake  to  make  yourself  rich  by 
gambling,  whether  it  be  lawful  gambling,  customary  gambling,  or 
other  kinds  of  gambling.  Gambling  with  cards,  or  dice,  or  stocks, 
is  all  one  thing — it  is  getting  money  without  giving  an  equivalent 
for  it.  Do  not  try  to  get  rich  quickly.  There  is  no  need  of  it.  It 
is  full  of  peril  and  disaster  here,  and  it  is  damnation  hereafter. 


180  THE  LOVE   OF  MONET. 

"  What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain  the  whole  world,  and  lose 
his  own  soul  ?" 


PRATER  AFTER  THE  SERMON. 

Aluigdtt  God,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  let  the  light  of  thy  truth  rest  upon 
darkened  consciences,  upon  perverted  hearts. 

Hear  the  sighing  of  the  prisoner.  How  many  are  shut  up  !  How  many  are  envi 
roned  with  pain  and  anguish  !  How  many  struggle  for  liberty,  but  may  not  go  forth ! 
Oh !  grant  that  others,  seeing  these  disasters,  may  take  warning,  and  that  men  may  learn 
that  ihey  thai  will  be  rich  shall  pierce  themselves  through  luith  many  sorrows. 

Grant  that  the  words  of  truth  which  have  been  spoken  may  go  home  with  us  to- 
night in  serious  earnest.  May  we  ponder  them,  and  spread  them  to  those  around 
about  us. 

Save  us,  we  beseech  of  thee,  from  our  own  peculiar  temptations.  Protect  us  from 
all  our  dangers.     Deliver  us  from  evil. 

For  thine  is  the  kingdom,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory,  forever  and  ever.   Amen. 


XII. 

Divine  Influence  on  the  Human  Soul. 


Drri\E  I^TLUE^TE  ox  THE  Hniiy  Soul. 


SirSDAT    MOKSTS'G,    XOVi^IBEB   29.   1868. 


"  Likewise  the  Sjotit  also  helpeth  :  rr  :r.~rr_  ■    -     :  r  -^f  e  taom  not  «]iat  we 
ghoold  pray  for  as  we  oaght :  bni  the  Spirl"  -  -   .  n  fcw  as  pa 

as]  wiih.  gr&ar.ings  wMcii  can  no:  be  uner-  _    ^- 


I  HATE  selected  this  passage  because  it  is  one  of  the  most  etriting 
instances  recorded  in  the  Xew  Testament  of  the  inspiration  of  the 
hnman  soul  by  the  divine  Spirit.  It  is  not  here  taught  that  there  is 
intercessorship  in  heaven  for  God's  people — although  that  is  abuc- 
dantlv  taught  elsewhere.  It  is  the  intercession  of  Grod's  Spirit  while 
men  are  on  earth,  and  of  the  Spirit  of  God  that  dwells  in  men,  that 
is  here  taught.  It  is  a  question  that  has  occupied  the  attention  of 
philosophers  in  every  age  of  the  world,  What  is  it  that  moves 
thought  in  the  human  soul  ? 

The  nature  of  man  is  such  as  to  be  powernilly  excited  by  the 
physical  world  acting  upon  the  various  parts  of  his  organism.  Man 
is  also  excited  to  activity  of  various  kinds  by  the  society  in  which 
he  dwells.  Human  society  is  a  second  nature  within  the  other,  and 
acting  more  powerfully  on  man  than  does  the  physical  globe. 

But  individual  minds  are  all  found  directly  or  indirectly  to  have 
great  power  in  exciting  thought,  sentiment,  and  emotion.  Dire^^ 
and  indirectly,  I  say :  by  Sf>eech  or  by  action  directly ;  indirectly  by 
the  general  influence  of  one's  disposition,  by  example,  and  by  that 
personal  effluence  (whatever  it  is)  of  which  we  know  b::t  r.~!e  philo- 
sophically— ^much  as  a  mere  matter  of  fact. 

Thus  the  human  mind  is  peculiarly  a  recipient  ani  agent  that 
receives  perhaps  more  than  it  eives  of  power,  acting  in  the  midst 
of  a  vast  circuit  of  stimulating  influences  from  the  material  globe, 
from  organized  societv,  and  from  other  individual  minds  acting  on  it. 

Lissojf  :  Sac  Tin.    Eticv?  TIjMOwtt  OoOectioB) :  5os.  21S-  COD,  SC 


182  DIVINE  INFLUENCE  ON  THE  HUMAN  SOUL. 

The  sacred  Scriptures  do  not  limit  the  influence  to  secular 
agents,  but  teach  unmistakably  that  the  soul  of  man  lies  open  to 
influences  acting  beyond  the  senses,  from  out  of  the  great  unknown 
spirit-world.  They  teach  that  the  human  soul  is  inspired  by  benign 
spirits  to  that  which  is  good  and  wise  ;  that  it  is  influenced  by 
malign  spirits  to  that  which  is  selfish  and  evil ;  and  that  that  sensitive 
agent,  the  human  soul,  which  is  acted  upon  by  the  scientific  material 
globe,  by  human  society,  and  by  individual  beings  in  society,  is  also 
acted  on  by  spirits,  and  chiefly  by  the  one  great  and  all-creative 
Spirit,  God. 

Without  stopi^ing  now  to  speak  of  these  first-mentioned  spirits, 
Ave  shall  spend  your  time  this  morning  in  considering  some  of  the 
aspects  of  the  revealed  fact,  that  the  divine  3Iind  acts  freely  upo7i  the 
human  sotd. 

It  is  impossible  for  any  one  to  give  forth  a  Avhole  view  of  the  na- 
ture and  action  of  the  divine  mind.  This  is  so  far  beyond  the  capa- 
city of  the  human  mind,  that  not  only  has  it  never  been  done,  but  it 
never  will  be  done.  Nor  shall  we  pretend  to  give  a  round  and  com- 
plete philosoj)hy  or  theory  of  even  so  much  of  divine  action  as  relates 
to  the  human  soul.  For  still  "  the  wind  bloweth  where  it  listeth,  and 
thou  hearest  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh, 
and  whither  it  goeth  :  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit." 

There  is  much  that  pertains  to  the  divine  action  upon  the  human 
soul  which  eludes  grasp,  and  perhaps  will  forever.  It  is  only  certain 
limited  truths  which  are  either  positively  known,  or  wliich  are  of  so 
high  a  degree  of  probability,  as  to  justify  us,  in  lack  of  better  know- 
ledge, in  assuming  and  using  them  for  practical  ends — at  least  until  we 
gi'ow  in  knowledge  to  better  views. 

It  is  taught,  then,  that,  besides  the  general  moral  influences,  uncon- 
scious and  diffused — as  it  were  distilled,  like  dew,  in  silence  and  dark- 
ness— there  is  an  active  energy,  arousing,  filling,  impelling  the  souls 
of  men. 

It  is  said  that  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  came  upon  judges,  that  it 
came  upon  kings,  upon  prophets,  upon  apostles — came  mightily,  and 
stirred  them  up.  As  sudden  and  mighty  winds  make  trees  rock,  and 
wrench  them,  and  even  overturn  them,  so,  as  by  a  mighty  rushing 
wind,  the  Spirit  of  God  has  descended  on  men — on  Samuel,  on  David, 
on  Isaiah,  on  Paul. 

It  is  taught,  likewise,  that,  while  this  energy  of  the  divine  mind 
prepared  certain  men  for  emergencies,  and  prepared  them  to  act 
ofiicial  parts,  all  true  Christians,  all  godly  souls,  are  open  to  a  quick- 
ening influence,  if  not  so  mighty  yet  of  the  same  general  kind — an 
influence  which  stimulates,  assists,  ripens,  and  so  finallj''  sanctifies. 

Some  few  suggestions  respect^'^g  the  method  of  this  action,  as  we 


DIVIFE  INFLUENCE  ON  THE  HUMAN  SOUL.         183 

derive  our  knowledge  from  Avatching  it,  from  facts,  from  the  side  of 
our  owu  experience,  may  be  turned  to  practical  account. 

"We  may  believe  that  the  action  of  the  divine  mind  upon  the  hu:- 
man  mind  is  not  of  a  sort  which  tends,  or  was  designed,  to  produce 
results  in  the  soul  for  Avhich  tliere  was  already  no  existing  adequate 
cause.  We  are  not  to  believe  that  the  divine  Spirit  is  creative  in  any 
sucli  sense  as  that  it  creates  new  faculties,  or  products  that  have  in 
them  no  ministration  of  faculty.  "We  have  no  reason  to  suppose,  or 
to  teach,  that  the  Spirit  of  God  sets  aside  the  action  of  a  man's  own 
mind,  that  it  constrains  that  action  to  unwonted  channels,  or  that  it 
produces  results  in  the  mind  without  making  use  of  the  faculties  which 
were  appointed  for  such  results.  There  be  many  persons  who  seem 
to  think  that  the  human  soul  is  like  a  stereoscopic  box,  and  that  the 
divine  Spirit  takes  truths  which  have  been  framed  outside  of  the 
mind,  just  as  men  take  pictures  that  have  been  framed  outside  of  the 
box,  and  slides  into  the  soul  these  pictures  of  truth  which  it  had 
no  hand  in  making,  and  w^hich  it  only"  sees  when  it  is  put  into  it. 
There  is  no  evidence  of  any  such  results  framed  by  the  divine  mind. 
In  other  words,  there  is  no  evidence  that  God  dispossesses  the  mind, 
or  considers  it  incompetent  for  the  results  which  it  was  designed  to 
produce. 

So  f;\r  as  we  can  judge  by  a  large  induction  of  facts,  there  is  no  ac- 
tion of  the  divine  mind  upon  the  human,  excei:)t  in  the  line  of  already 
established  powers  and  faculties.  There  is  no  result  produced,  except 
such  as  can  be  produced  by  arousing  the  faculties  already  there  to 
extraordinary  power  and  efficiency.  So  that  the  divine  mind  is  not 
attempting  to  make  up  something  that  is  lacking  in  the  structure  of 
the  human  mind,  but  simply  seeking  to  develop  latent  energy  in 
powers  that  are  already  provided.  It  amounts  to  giving  man  the 
benefit  of  the  whole  power  of  his  own  mind — in  a  sublime  way,  to 
be  sure,  but  somewhat  after  the  manner  in  which  a  teacher  helps  his 
pupil.  How  ?  Not  by  thinking /or  him,  nor  in  a  literal  sense  think- 
ing in  him  ;  but  by  bringing  the  stimulating  power  of  his  tliinking 
part  to  bear  upon  the  child's,  and  waking  up  its  dormant  capacity, 
and  making  the  child  think — not  dispossessing  the  child's  intellectual 
nature,  nor  working  out  results  wdthout  the  instrumentality  of  the 
child's  nature,  but  simply  making  the  child  use  its  nature  to  accom- 
plish the  things  desired. 

When,  in  the  hour  of  battle,  the  leader  fills  his  followers  with  an 
enthusiasm  that  seems  like  a  secret  fire,  it  is  said  that  he  infuses  him- 
self into  them — and  it  is  near  enough  to  life  to  be  acceptable  as  a 
figure  or  as  a  mode  of  speech.  What  is  it  but  this:  that  he  has  in 
him  the  power  of  piercing  the  souls  of  men  with  the  enthusiasm 
which  is  in  hiirself,  and  developing  in  them  what  was  there  before, 


1 84         myiNE  infl  uexce  on  the  human  so  ul. 

but  what  they  had  not  tlie  2:)ower  to  develop  in  themselves,  or  would 
not  develop  ?  It  was  there,  or  he  could  not  have  developed  it.  An 
enthusiast  has  the  power  to  excite  enthusiasm.  He  excites  it.  The 
creative  force  is  in  the  mind  itself,  which  was  preadapted  to  all  its 
own  exigencies;  and  all  that  tlie  enthusiast  does  is  to  kindle  the  fire, 
the  fuel  of  which  was  already  prepared  in  your  soul. 

The  whole  history  of  the  Bible  will  show  that  those  great  names, 
preeminent  as  being  inspired,  were  acting  most  perfectly  in  the  line 
of  their  own  original  endoAvments  when  they  Avere  most  inspired. 
In  other  words,  a  man  is  never  so  much  himself  as  when  he  is  acting 
under  the  influence  of  the  divine  Spirit;  as  when  the  divine  Spirit 
is  shed  forth,  and  exerts  itself  upon  the  human  mind,  to  bring  the 
man  up  to  tlie  fullness  of  all  that  which  he  has,  but  which  he  does  not 
avail  himself  of 

Do  you  suppose  that  any  other  man  could  have  been  called  to  do 
Moses'  work  ?  He  was  called  from  birth.  In  other  words,  he  was  or- 
ganized to  be  Moses,  And  when  the  Spirit  of  God  rested  upon 
him,  (his  wonderful  administrative  jjowers  covering  a  breadth  per- 
haps never  equaled — certainly  never  surpassed,)  it  was  the  divine 
Spirit  simply  acting  upon  an  organization  already  precast  for  that 
work.  Massive-browed  was  he.  Large  universally  was  he.  The  com- 
prehensiveness, the  foresight,  the  complexity  and  wisdom  of  his  mind, 
the  whole  knowledge  of  life,  of  society,  and  of  men,  manifested  by 
the  great  lawgiver  of  the  desert — these  were  developed  by  the  Spirit 
of  God  in  him.  They  were  not  created  without  any  regard  to  his 
organization. 

The  great  judge  of  Israel  was  born  to  be  the  judge,  and  had  the 
mental  qualifications  required. 

David — he  was  not  a  common  man  made  uncommon  by  the  divine 
Spirit.  God  created  him  an  uncommon  man ;  and  then,  when  the 
divine  Spirit  rested  upon  his  mind,  it  simply  made  that  mind  work 
the  work  for  which  it  was  created. 

Isaiah  was  called  to  be  a  prophet  because  he  was  horn  to  be  a 
prophet.  And  Paul  was  called  to  be  the  chiefest  apostle,  because  he 
was,  from  his  mother's  womb,  the  chiefest  man. 

All  these  retained  and  developed  their  original  organic  peculiari- 
ties. It  is  no  part  of  the  divine  economy  to  efiace  individualism, 
but  to  intensify  it  and  to  use  it. 

We  are  now  prepared  to  answer  the  questions  which  often  arise, 
and  which  perplex  the  minds  of  men. 

1.  If  these  simple  statements  be  taken  as  true,  hoAV  shall  a  man 
distinguish  between  his  own  mind's  thought  and  the  divine  in- 
fluence? How  shall  I  know  whether  the  results  to  which  I  am 
brought  I  am  brought  to  by  my  own  thinking,  or  by  God  thinking 


DIVmE  WFL  UENCE  ON  TEE  HUMAN  SO  UL.  185 

in  me  and  tlirongh  me  ?  How  shall  I  know  whether  these  motives 
are  of  my  own  self,  or  whether  they  are  the  concurrent  stimulating 
influences  of  the  divine  mind?  You  can  not  tell.  It  was  not  meant 
that  you  should.  It  is  not  necessary  that  you  should.  Xo  man  can 
say,  "This  is  I;  and  so  much  besides  is  not  I,  but  God." 

When  a  steamship  is  making  her  course  across  the  Atlantic,  and 
her  own  engine  is  propelling  the  hull,  and  the  wind  is  fair,  and 
the  captain  has  raised  all  the  sails,  suppose  the  hull  should  say  : 
"Engineer,  can  you  tell  me  how  much  of  my  motion  I  am  to  attribute 
to  the  engine,  and  how  much  to  the  sails  ?  Which  part  is  engine, 
and  which  is  sails?"  He  would  reply,  "They  are  both  workino-  to- 
gether, and  you  can  not  separate  the  one  from  the  other,  and  say, 
So  much  is  engine,  and  so  much  is  sails.  It  is  not  necessary  that 
you  should.     There  is  nothing  gained  by  it." 

Suppose  a  pupil  should  say  to  his  teacher,  "I  never  studied  as  I 
have  under  your  instruction.  When  I  come  where  you  are,  what 
with  your  questions,  and  your  stimulating  and  developing  my  mind, 
I  succeed  better  than  I  ever  did  before.  And  I  have  been  thinking 
how  much  was  I  that  was  studying,  and  how  much  was  you^'' 
What  would  the  teacher  say  ?  "Zdo  not  study.  I  stimulate  you  to 
study.  You  can  not  separate  in  your  mind  that  which  I  do  from  that 
which  you  do  through  the  stimulus  that  I  bring  to  bear  upon  you 
They  are  inseparable  in  the  nature  of  things." 

The  divine  Spirit  works  along  the  line  of  a  man's  own  thinking' 
power,  along  the  channel  of  a  man's  OAvn  motive  power,  and  wakes 
up  in  the  man  that  which  -was  in  him.  It  is  not  said  that  God's 
thought  rolls  along  and  becomes  a  part — a  material  part — of  the 
current  of  our  thought :  on  the  contrary,  it  is  said  that  God  makes 
us  think,  makes  us  will,  makes  us  feel.  What  is  the  formula  ?  "  Work 
out  your  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling."  That  is,  work, 
work  in  earnest^  as  men  do  about  a  thing  which  they  are  afraid  they 
shall  not  accomplish.  Why  ?  Because  "  it  is  God  that  worketh  in 
you" — what?  putting  liis  own  will  there,  and  his  own  thought? — 
because  "  it  is  God  that  worketh  in  you  to  icill  and  to  do.''^  There  is 
the  point  in  which  the  divine  influence  expends  itself,  according  to 
the  explicit  testimony  of  Scripture,  for  the  development  in  man  of 
that  which  he  had  in  him  of  dormant  power. 

Suppose  a  philosophical  bush,  in  a  winter  green-house,  should 
address  the  gardener,  some  morning,  (and  plants  talk  more  than  you 
think,  if  you  only  have  the  imagination  to  hear  what  they  think  and 
say  ;)  suppose  some  morning  a  camellia  should  say  to  the  gardener,  on 
his  going  into  the  green-house  :  "  My  friend,  will  you  explain  to  me 
one  mystery  ?  Will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  how  much  it  is 
that  I  am  growing,  and  how  much  it  is  that  the  sun  in  me  is  growing  ? 


180  DIVINE  INFL  UENCE  ON  TEE  HUMAN  SO  UL. 

Can  you  enable  me  to  distinguish  between  ligneous  Zand  solar  it^  sc 
that  I  can  see  how  much  it  is  that  I  do,  and  how  much  it  is  that  the 
sun  does  ?"  "What  would  the  gardener  say  but  this  :  "  They  are  inse- 
parable ;  they  are  indivisible.     It  is  the  sun  that  works  in  you  to  do." 

Or,  suppose  the  plant  should  say  :  "  There  are  two  kinds  of  heat — 
furnace  heat  and  solar  heat — that  keep  me  agoing;  will  you  tell 
me  which  is  which?"  "  No,"  the  gardener  would  say, "  I  can  not." 
Though  chemically  they  proceed  from  very  different  sources,  you  can 
neither  separate  the  two  different  agencies,  nor  can  you  separate 
'the  result  in  the  plant  from  the  agent  that  produces,  stimulates,  and 
develops  that  result. 

And  so  it  is  in  regard  to  the  human  mind.  All  action  of  the  mind 
is  your  own.  Every  impression  is  yours,  proceeding,  according  to 
natural  law,  from  your  susceptibilities,  or  your  imagination,  or  your 
reason.  All  results  come  from  the  natural  unfolding  and  the  normal 
activity  of  the  faculties  of  your  own  soul.  And  that  which  the  divine 
mind  does  to  your  mind,  is  done  inalarger  way,  and  from  a  sphere  with 
instrumentalities  which  are  different,  probably,  from  any  that  belong 
to  man.  In  some  points  it  is  analogous  to,  but  in  some  it  transcends, 
our  experience.  And  that  which  the  divine  mind  does,  is  not  to  think 
for  us,  nor  to  think  in  spite  of  us ;  but  to  toorh  in  us  to  think  and  to 
will  and  to  do.  And  so  every  result  to  which  yoii  come  imder  the 
divine  influence,  is  a  result  that  you  come  to,  and  come  to  by  normal 
processes. 

"  But,"  it  is  said,  "  is  not  this  taking  from  the  glory  of  God  ?"  If 
you  will  show  me  that  he  thinks  so,  I  will  admit  it.  But  if  this  is 
the  method ;  in  other  words,  if  this  be  fact,  then  it  is  the  method  that 
God  has  chosen  ;  and  that  which  he  has  chosen  is  doubtless  that  which 
is  the  most  glorious  to  himself  This  attempting  to  be  more  jealous 
about  God's  glory  than  he  is  himself,  is  a  piece  of  supreme  imper- 
tinence, of  spiritual  self-conceit ;  or  else  it  is  logic  run  mad  ! 

2.  The  question  naturally  will  then  come  up,  "  How  shall  we 
distinguish  between  heated  imaginations  and  real  inspirations? 
How  shall  we  distinguish  certainties  from  fancies  ?"  I  reply.  You 
are  under  the  responsibility  of  settling  w^hat  is  sound  and  right  in 
religious  matters,  when  you  are  under  the  divine  influence,  on  pre- 
cisely the  same  grounds,  and  by  precisely  the  same  methods,  that  you 
do  under  any  other  circumstances.  Precisely  that  same  kind  of 
discretion  which  you  use  in  all  your  woi'ldly  business,  and  in  the 
whole  conduct  of  your  life,  goes  right  straight  through  religion. 
And  you  are  not  brought  under  supernal  influences  in  order  to  pro- 
duce abnormal  activity,  or  to  put  in  operation  different  laws,  but 
simply  to  enable  you  in  a  higher  and  surer  way  to  act  by  the  same 
laws,  by  the  same  faculties,  and  by  the  same  methods.      We  are 


DIVINE  INFL  UENCE  ON  THE  HUMAN  SOV  I.  187 

developed  to  activity,  we  are  stimuhited,  we  are  shone  upon.     All 
these  influences  are  from  above.     The  results  are  yours. 

The  moral  character  of  the  mind's  product  must  be  detei-mined 
by  moral  rules  and  tests.  Simply  because  you  suppose  it  comes  from 
God  it  is  not  therefore  riglit.  Every  thing  that  comes  into  your 
mind,  and  that  you  think  is  right,  if  it  conforms  to  the  rules  of  right 
thinking;  that  which  you  believe,  if  it  is  sufficiently  established  by 
credible  proof,  is  to  be  true  to  you.  Nothing,  because  it  is  an  enthu- 
siasm ;  nothing,  because  it  is  an  imj^ulse ;  nothing,  because  it  is  a 
powerful  impression ;  nothing  that,  when  you  are  praying  or  when 
you  are  reading,  seems  to  pierce  like  a  beam  6f  light  into  your  soul,  is 
sufficient  to  warrant  you  in  saying,  "  I  know  it  is  true."  It  may  be  that 
it  is  true ;  it  may  be  that  it  is  a  part  of  divine  inspiration  ;  but  all 
sudden  impulses  are  not  according  to  truth.  Thousands  of  them  are 
not.  Whether  a  thing  be  good  and  true  and  wise,  you  must  ascertain 
by  the  ordinary  rules  of  good  judgment  and  sense.  Common  sense, 
Moral  sense — you  are  responsible  for  the  use  of  them. 

3.  No  man  is  released  from  ordinary  rules  of  investigation  by  any 
activity  of  the  divine  mind  on  his.  The  ordinary  rules  of  moral 
responsibility  must  remain.  God  did  not  make  this  world  that  peo- 
ple might  live  in  it  without  work.  That  you  have  all  found  out. 
God  did  not  make  the  world  so  that  men  could  find  out  truth,  even 
the  most  important  truth,  without  striving  for  it.  That  you  have  all 
found  out.  God  has  made  and  put  upon  man  a  government  that 
compels  him  to  assume  the  responsibility  of  thinking,  and  of  patience 
in  thinking,  and  of  accuracy  in  thinking ;  and  he  is  to  work  out  his 
own  salvation,  whether  it  be  by  formal  propositions  or  by  judgments 
of  moral  character.  For  the  philosophy  is  the  same  through  the 
whole  scale  of  the  mind.  "We  are  to  worh  out  our  own  salvation. 
There  stands  the  opening  clause.  We  are  to  work  out  our  own 
results.  We  are  to  work  out  our  own  moral  determinations.  "We 
are  to  work  out  our  own  character.  "  For  it  is  God  that  worketh  in 
us."     But  he  works  in  us  to  make  us  work,  to  make  us  think. 

What  men  would  like,  is  a  Bible  that  should  have  been  written  in 
the  beginning  of  the  world,  so  that  every  man  should  know,  fi-om  the 
very  Garden  of  Eden,  exactly  every  bone,  every  muscle,  every  nerve, 
every  artery,  every  drop  of  blood,  and  every  chemical  element ;  and 
80  that  every  man  should  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  sit  under  his  own 
vine  and  fig-tree,  and  read,  and  read,  and  read.  God  did  not  make 
the  world  so.  He  said,  "  There  is  the  world :  study  it,  and  find  it 
out;  and  if  you  do  not,  die  ignorant!"  Men  would  like  to  have  a 
code  of  moral  truths  that  wer^  not  left  to  be  found  out.  Why  was 
not  the  Bible  jjlainer?  Because  this  was  not  a  world  made  for  lazy 
men.     It  was  a  world  in  which  it  was  designed  that  men  should 


188  DIVINE  INFL  UENCE  ON  TEE  HUMAN  SO  UL. 

work  for  their  moral  good,  just  as  they  do  for  their  temporal  good. 
You  Avork  for  your  bread  ;  you  Avork  for  your  clothes,  (most  of  you !) 
you  work  for  what  is  worth  having;  and  that  same  analogy  runs 
through  all  the  world — and  just  as  much  in  moral  matters  as  any- 
where else.  There  is  a  divine  administration,  a  divine  disclosure,  a 
divine  stimulus  that,  over  against  the  mightiness  of  the  physical 
nature  of  man,  helps  the  infirmity  of  his  moral  nature.  It  needs 
equipoise ;  it  needs  more  stimulus  than  the  body  does,  whicli  is 
borne  in  upon  by  the  whole  constitution  of  secular  affairs.  Therefore 
it  is  that  God's  Spirit  helps,  as  it  were,  the  unequal  conflict — not, 
however,  to  release  a  man  from  thinking ;  not  to  release  him  from 
forming  his  own  moral  judgments  ;  not  to  release  him  from  finding 
out  his  duty.  Every  body  would  be  glad  if  it  were  so.  Therefore 
every  body  wants  a  priest.  You  recollect  the  case  of  the  Levite  who 
got  himself  a  priest,  and  folded  up  his  hands,  and  curled  up  his  feet, 
and  left  this  priest  to  do  his  thinking  for  him,  to  do  his  praying  for 
him,  to  do  his  singing  for  him,  to  do  his  reading  for  him,  so  that  he 
had  nothing  to  do  !  He  wanted  to  get  rid  of  it  all.  It  is  the  most 
perplexing  part  of  Christian  life  to  know  what  to  do.  Men  say, 
"  If  I  only  knew  what  duty  is  !"  Bless  your  dear  heart !  that  is  the 
cream  of  discipline.  All  that  is  put  in  you  is  put  there  to  onake  you 
work  out  your  own  salvation ;  and  I  tell  you,  when  a  man  does  work 
out  his  own  salvation,  it  is  work.  Sometimes  the  stream  that  turns 
the  wheel  is  anxiety.  Sometimes  it  is  pain.  Sometimes  it  is  deep 
sorrow.  Sometimes  it  is  anguish  and  remorse.  But  the  responsibil- 
ity of  working,  and  keeping  the  imagination  working,  and  finding  out 
duty,  and  knowing  what  is  right,  is  upon  you. 

You  recollect  the  conference  where  the  Saviour  says  to  the  woman 
of  Samaria,  "  If  thou  knewest  the  gift  of  God,  and  who  it  is  that  saith 
to  thee.  Give  me  to  drink ;  thou  wouldest  have  asked  of  him,  and  he 
would  have  given  thee  living  water."  "  Whosoever  drinketh  of  the 
water  that  I  shall  give  him  shall  never  thirst ;  but  the  water  that  I  shall 
give  him  shall  be  in  him  a  well  of  water  springing  up  into  everlast- 
ing life."  She  said,  "  Sir,  give  me  this  water" — What  was  it  ?  Aspi- 
ration ?  Soul-hunger  ?  Oh  !  no — "  that  I  come  not  hither  to  draw." 
It  was  such  a  task  for  her  to  come  to  get  water  every  day  !  and  if 
there  was  any  extra  pump,  any  remarkable  spring,  that  would  obvi- 
ate the  necessity  of  her  walking  all  the  way  there  for  water,  and 
carrying  it  back  on  her  head,  she  wanted  to  avail  herself  of  it. 

That  is  the  idea  that  men  have.  Every  body  wants  to  be  supplied 
with  spiritual  water,  so  that  he  shall  not  have  to  draw ;  but  every  liv- 
ing soul  must  draw  for  itself. 

Therefore,  if  jou  say,  "How  shall  I  distinguish  between  that 
which  God  works   <vithin  me,  and  that  which  I  work  out  myself?" 


DIVINE  INFL  UENCE  ON  THE  HUMAN  SO  UL.  189 

I  say,  you  arc  to  understand  that  God  is  behind,  and  wakes  you  up, 
and  develops  your  mind  to  activity;  and  that  for  the  j)roducts  of 
that  activity  you  are  responsible.  And  whether  it  is  true  or  false, 
you  are  to  find  out  just  as  you  find  out  any  thing  else. 

4.  But  you  will  say:  "Are  there  not  cases  in  which  another  law 
has  been  followed;  as,  for  instance,  when  the  disciples  were  enjoined, 
on  being  arrested  and  brought  before  magistrates  and  kings,  '  Do 
not  premeditate  in  that  hour  what  ye  shall  say  ;  for  it  shall  be  given 
yott  in  that  hour  what  ye  shall  say.'  How  was  it  given  them  ?"  I 
apprehend  that  it  was  given  them  only  in  this  way :  that  when  a 
man  is  living  in  a  high  moral  state  all  the  time,  and  is  brought 
suddenly  into  an  emergency,  under  the  stimulus  of  that  emer- 
gency, as  well  as  under  the  divine  blessing,  luminous  intuitions  are 
^iven  to  him.  He  does  not  need  to  study  past  histories  in  that  hour. 
The  intuitions  of  right  and  duty  are  spontaneous  under  such  circum- 
stances. I  do  not  apprehend  that  the  disciples  in  the  day  of  Pente- 
cost had  given  to  them  more  of  this  than  is  given  to  men  in  our  day 
who  live  as  high  as  they  lived,  and  whose  souls  are  open  to  the  im- 
pulsion of  the  divine  Spirit  as  much  as  theirs  was.  As  the  solar  sun 
develops  growth  in  the  earth,  so  the  influence  of  God  develops 
growth  in  the  human  soul. 

Let  me  here,  before  reaching  the  next  question,  call  to  your  atten- 
tion the  character  of  many  of  the  impressions  which  men  come  into, 
and  which  they  suppose  to  be  divinely  inspired. 

There  are  many  men  who  think  in  meetings  that  they  are  called 
to  be  teachers,  and  are  divinely  inspired,  simj)ly  because  they  are 
conscious  of  a  rush  of  feeling,  of  an  intense  action  of  their  own  mind. 
And  it  may  be  that  that  is  the  divine  indication.  For,  if  they  are 
modest,  if  they  are  rich-hearted,  if  they  are  experimental,  if  they  are 
fruitful  in  instruction  to  others,  and  are  conscious  at  the  same  time 
that  there  is  an  inspiration  that  bears  them  on  to  this  work,  that  is 
evidence  enough  that  they  are  called  of  God.  But  when  a  man,  rat- 
tle-brained, without  any  experience  in  life,  with  nothing  in  him  but 
conceit,  and  enough  of  that  to  make  up  for  all  the  other  lackings, 
rises,  and  insists  that  he  is  called  of  the  Spirit  of  God  to  teach,  we 
all  listen  and  say,  "  'What  has  the  Spirit  of  God  called  you  to  teach  ? 
Nonsense?  Silliness  ?"  Does  God  take  the  trouble  to  ordain  a  fool 
to  come  forward  and  tell  us  things  that  every  infant  in  the  nursery 
knows  ?  By  their  fruits  shall  ye  knoio  them — and  just  as  much  men 
that  are  under  the  inspiration  of  the  Holy  Ghost  as  men  that  are 
not.  And  the  reason  why  a  man  inspired  is  a  better  man  than  one 
uninspired,  is  simply  the  difference  in  the  fruit ;  the  purity  of  it ;  the 
wholesomeness  of  it;  the  abundance  of  it.  An  inspired  fool  is  a  nui- 
sance ;  and  God  never  sent  such  an  one. 


190  DIVINE  INFL  UENGE  ON  TEE  HUMAN  80  UL. 

We  are  to  remember  that  there  are  two  spheres  of  spiritual  mflu 
euce  in  conflict  in  the  world.  There  is  a  pure,  an  intelligent  sphere — ■ 
benign,  cleansing,  elevating — and  there  is  evidently  another  and  an 
opposite  tendency  of  spirits,  not  so  pure,  and  not  so  intelligent,  and 
not  so  cleansing.  There  is  many  a  man  that  is  sure  he  is  sent ;  and 
I,  too,  am  sure  he  is  sent.  But  he  says  he  is  sent  from  above ;  and  I 
think  he  is  sent  from  below  !  Therefore,  try  the  spirits  that  are  in 
you.     Discriminate.     And  how  discriminate?     By  their//7aY. 

A  strong  impulse,  different  from  what  you  are  accustomed  to,  is  of- 
ten taken  to  be  an  evidence  that  you  are  under  the  special  influence 
of  the  divine  Spirit.  Thus,  for  instance,  a  mother  Avho  lias  watched, 
waited,  longed,  agonized  at  the  sick-bed  of  her  child,  and  prayed, 
besieged,  and  besought  the  heavens,  until,  with  loss  of  sleep  and  in- 
tense suffering,  her  mind  has  risen  into  an  abnormal  state,  is,  on  some 
night,  seized  with  a  sudden  uplifted  joy.  It  seems  to  her  as  if  God 
had  said  to  her,  "  Your  child  shall  live !"  And  in  great  ecstasy  and 
gladness  she  says,  "I  Jcnow  he  shall  live  !"  But  the  child  dies.  And 
afterward  she  remembers  it,  and  does  not  know  Avhat  to  make  of  it. 

You  confounded  an  impulse  of  your  own  nature  (under  circum- 
etances  in  which  by  natural  law  your  nature  would  rise  up  into  that 
ecstatic  condition)  Avith  a  divine  telegraphic  message,  as  it  were, 
written  of  God  and  put  into  your  heart.  If  God  inspires  you,  he 
inspires  you  to  use  your  faculties.  He  does  not  use  your  faculties 
for  you  ;  he  does  not  tell  you  what  to  do  with  them  ;  he  wakes  you 
up  to  use  them  for  yourself;  and  you  are  responsible  for  the  character 
of  the  results  which  are  produced  by  their  use.  And  you  are  not 
to  confound  the  impulse  with  the  results  to  which  that  impulse 
leads  you. 

I  receive  every  week  of  my  life  multitudes  of  letters  which  people 
under  deep  want  are  "  moved  by  the  Spirit  of  God  "  to  write.  One 
minister  wrote  for  a  thousand  dollars  with  which  to  take  a  mortgage 
off"  his  farm,  in  order  to  enable  him  to  preach  the  Gospel  without  so 
much  care ;  and  he  assured  me  that  the  Spirit  of  God  urged  him  to  do  it. 
I  had  no  doubt  of  the  want,  and  I  had  no  doubt  of  the  relief  which 
it  would  give  him,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  had  the  divine  in- 
fluence on  him,  if  he  was  a  good  man ;  but  it  was  an  instance  in 
which  the  results  evidently  were  from  the  man  himself  The  influence 
might  have  been  from  above.  But  not  every  mill  brings  out  good 
fabrics  that  has  a  good  water-power  turning  the  wheel,  or  a  good 
engine  carrying  the  machinery ;  God  supplies  the  motive  power  for 
the  machinery,  but  you  are  the  spinners  and  weavers.  The  pattern 
that  comes  out  of  the  loom — the  fabric — is  yours.  That  which 
stimulates  is  divine. 

When  a  man,  therefore,  says  to  me,   "  My  daughter  wants  a  piano, 


DIVINE  INFL  UENCE  OX  TEE  R  UMAN  SO  UL.  191 

and  wants  you  to  pay  for  it;"  and  another  man  writes,  "  I  want  to 
lift  a  mortgage,  and  two  hundred  dolhirs  would  lift  it ;"  and  another 
writes,  "  My  younger  sister  wants  an  education;"  and  ^\hen  they 
say  that  God  told  them  to  write  to  me,  I  beg  their  pardon !  I  do  not 
think  that  God  ever  tells  people  any  thing.  I  do  not  think  God  ever 
assures  any  body  of  any  single  result  which  he  will  work  out  in  them. 
He  is  not  going  to  take  away  the  very  motive-power  of  human  life. 
He  is  not  going  to  do  your  work  for  you,  or  think  for  you.  He  is 
not  going  to  finish  the  thought  or  the  fabric,  and  fit  it  into  you.  He 
wakes  you  up  to  think,  and  you  are  responsible  for  thinking  right. 
And  the  judgments  which  you  form  are  amenable  to  criticism  and 
to  review. 

5.  It  maybe  asked:  "How  shall  we  secure  this  divine  help?" 
We  are  responsible,  though  God  is  working  with  us,  for  right 
thinking,  for  right  willing,  and  for  right  and  wise  action.  We  have 
no  right  to  despise  customs.  We  have  no  right  to  despise  those 
normal  processes  by  which  experience  has  taught  society  best  to 
develop  itself.  We  have  no  riglit  to  despise  natural  laws,  or  any  of 
that  vast  economy  by  which  God  through  liis  providence  is  stimulat- 
ing development  in  the  natural  world,  in  the  social  world,  and  in  the 
moral  world.  "  How  then  are  we  going  to  secure  the  divine  help  to 
stimulate  us  to  judge  right,  to  think  right,  and  to  do  right  ?"  By 
living  in  right  dispositions  ;  by  keeping  in  all  those  moral  channels 
through  which  divine  purity  flows,  if  it  comes  at  all  to  you ;  by  seek- 
ing rational  ends;  by  being  in  the  current  of  providence;  by  cultivat- 
ing sensibility  to  high  and  pure  moral  imj^ressions.    In  all  these  ways. 

Treat  yourselves  just  as  you  would  treat  a  plant.  If  the  question 
were  put  to  you,  "How  sliall  I  make  my  plant  thrive  best?"  the  an- 
swer woiild  be,  "Give  it  just  as  much  as  it  wants  to  eat  at  the  root, 
and  then  see  that  it  has  just  as  much  chance  to  eat  at  the  top.  Take 
care  of  the  soil,  and  see  that  it  is  planted  where  the  sun  can  find  it 
all  day  long.  Keep  the  top  and  bottom  in  their  normal  conditions. 
Then  you  have  done  the  most  that  you  can  do  for  the  plant." 

And  if  a  man  says,  "  How  shall  I  secure  to  myself  these  divine  in- 
fluences ?"  I  reply,  In  all  the  relations  of  life  maintain  equity  and 
purity  and  integrity,  and  then  keep  your  moral  sentiments  and  your 
nature  so  open  to  righteousness,  to  purity,  to  aspiration,  to  love,  to 
faith,  to  joy,  to  the  very  Spirit  of  God,  that  you  shall  receive,  easily, 
the  ingress  of  God's  Spirit  as  it  flows  abroad  and  fills  the  whole 
universe. 

But  you  will  ask  me,  "Is  not  God's  Spirit  special?  Is  it  uni- 
versal ?"  God's  Spirit  is  universal.  It  becomes  special  when  your 
volition  accepts  and  takes  it.  God's  Spirit  follows  the  lavr  of  God's 
sun — for  God  is  a  stoi.     Tlie  whole  heaven  is  full  of  light.     And  yet, 


192  DIVINE  INFL  UENCE  GN  THE  HUMAN  SO  TIL. 

if  you  go  into  your  house,  and  slnit  the  door,  there  is  no  snn  to  you. 
You  shut  it  out.  If  you  leave  your  dwelling,  or  cave,  where  you  have 
hidden  yourself,  and  go  out  into  the  sunlight,  it  is  all  yours,  and  it 
becomes  personal  to  you  and  your  wants.  And  as  it  is  with  the  nat- 
ural sun,  so  it  is  with  the  Sun  of  Righteousness. 

Not  to  pursue  this  subject  further,  (for  it  seems  to  me  that  in  these 
reasonings  and  statements  and  answers,  I  have  given  to  you  the  key 
by  which  you  can  yourselves  unlock  other  questions  and  other  diffi- 
culties,) let  me  close  by  pointing  out  to  you  the  grandeur  of  that  sta- 
tion in  which  every  one  of  us,  the  most  obscure,  is  placed — the  gran- 
deur of  that  great  invisible  world  which  exists  roimd  about  us,  in 
which  our  physical  life  is  but  the  underground  germination  of  a  seed 
prejDaratory  to  its  elevation  into  the  air  and  into  sunlight. 

We  are  planted  here.  We  are  working  out  from  our  material 
conditions,  as  a  seed  works  out  from  under  the  soil.  We  are  just  be- 
ginning with  the  very  tips,  as  it  were,  of  our  faculties,  to  come  up 
into  the  jDure  sunlight.  But  all  that  we  have  of  experience  in  this 
world  is  still  obscure,  sub-mundane,  subterranean ;  and  we  shall 
learn,  really  and  fully,  branch  and  fruit,  Avhen  we  see  him  as  he  is, 
and  are  like  him.  With  the  utmost  of  certainties,  Ave  still  are  sur- 
rounded by  uncertainties.  Knowledge  is  rude  and  imperfect  here. 
We  are  voyagers  exploring  new  seas  and  edging  along  new  coasts  and 
continents.  Life  is  something  more  sublime,  and  something  grander 
than  men  think  who  only  grind  and  eat  their  daily  bread  and  know 
no  difference  between  themselves  and  the  beasts  that  perish.  We  are 
beginners.  We  are  little  children  and  petitioners  for  liberty  to  come 
to  our  manhood,  surrounded  by  more  invisible  things  than  there  are 
things  visible,  and  under  mightier  influences  supernal  than  are  the 
influences  vii-tual  and  physical,  and  are  holding  on  our  way  to  that 
other  state  of  being.  Man  is  more  than  man  knows.  Life  is  grander 
than  it  shows  itself  to  be. 

Every  man  that  stands  and  looks  back  from  the  other  life  to  see 
what  was  the  importance  of  this,  and  to  measure  it  by  its  results 
there,  will  be  filled  with  amazement  that  he  should  have  lived  so 
blind,  and  so  unknowing,  in  the  midst  of  so  grand  an  arrangement  of 
divine  Providence. 

Once  let  this  fact  be  accepted,  that  in  all  this  life  we  are  at  best 
but  beginners  and  imperfect,  (perfect  as  we  may  think  we  are,)  and 
in  a  sphere  where  it  was  not  meant  that  men  should  be  rounded  out 
and  come  to  the  fullness  of  themselves,  and  under  a  dispensation  where 
imperfection  inheres  in  the  organic  idea  ;  once  let  it  be  understood 
that  men  are  yet  in  thumb-pots,  as  it  were,  shifted  from  shelf  to  shelf 
by  the  gardener,  preparatory  to  the  coming  summer,  when  they  are 
to  be  turned  out  in'^o  the  open  field  and  garden  ;  let  the  idea  come  to 


DIVINE  INFL UENCE  ON  THE  HUMAN  SO  UL.  193 

us  that  sve  are  not  like  plants  wbicli  the  gardener  divides,  letting  go 
the  poor  ones,  and  saving  only  the  good  ones,  but  that  we  are  under 
the  genial  influence  of  the  great  heart  of  God,  which  saves  and  de- 
velops every  single  germ  of  manhood  that  is  in  us — let  these  things 
enter  into  our  consciousness,  and  they  will  be  a  source  of  great  com- 
fort and  encouragement  to  us.  We  are  beloved.  We  are  not  or- 
phans, but  are  children  put  out  to  nurse.  And  our  Father  looks  after 
us,  and  sees  to  our  welfare,  and  is  day  by  day  ministering  to  us. 

Keep  your  heart  open.  Keep  your  head  open.  Keep  your  will 
willing.  Keej)  all  your  being  so  that  you  shall  be  sensitive  to  the 
coming  and  to  the  touch  of  God,  giving  power  to  these  inspii'ations 
and  influences.  And  let  every  one  feel,  "  I  must  work  out  my  own 
salvation,  and  by  my  fruits  I  must  judge  and  I  must  be  judged." 

So  you  shall  have  all  the  blessedness  and  comfort  of  supernal 
power  on  the  one  side,  and  not  be  driven  into  the  enthusiasms  or  ec- 
stacies  or  mistakes  of  fanatics  on  the  other  side.  So  you  shall  main- 
tain reason  void  of  ofibnse  on  the  one  side,  and  faith  with  all  the 
radiance  of  the  divine  light  on  the  other. 

God  grant  to  every  one  of  us  such  an  earnest  desire  to  grow,  such 
an  earnest  desire  to  know,  such  an  earnest  desire  to  do,  such  an  ear- 
nest desire  to  be  rather  than  to  seem,  that  we  shall  be  susceptible  of 
that  great  overcliarged  influence  with  which  the  universe  is  filled  ; 
and  that  the  divine  impulse,  steadily  bearing  us  upward  and  onward, 
may  at  last  bring  us  to  the  heavenly  shore,  as  the  sons  of  God,  not 
unworthy  of  our  Father,  when  we  shall  see  him  and  be  seen  of  him. 


PRAYER    BEFORE   THE    SERMOIf. 

We  thank  thee,  our  Father,  that  thou  hast  not  shaken  us  off  from  thy  bough,  as  the  seed  flies 
from  the  tree,  to  know  its  parent  no  more.  We  are  of  thee,  and  in  thee  we  live  and  move  and 
have  our  being.  And  length  of  years,  which  but  make  our  affections  brighter  for  our  children, 
make  our  love  for  thee,  and  thine  for  us,  more  comprehensive,  and  our  need  of  tliee  more  absolute. 
We  do  not  seek  to  escape  from  thee  and  thy  laws,  as  men  fly  prisons  and  bondage.  We  find  tliat 
our  liberty  is  retrenched  as  we  go  toward  ourselves,  and  in  ourselves  as  we  go  toward  that  which 
is  earthly.  Where  passion  is  a  bodily  appetite,  there  men  are  most  constrained  ;  there  least 
have  they  expansion ;  there  least  have  they  harmony  with  themselves,  or  with  things  round 
about  them ;  there  least  may  they  range  the  wide  bounds  of  the  spiritual  realm.  And  as  we  draw 
near  to  thee,  all  things  become  ours.  Thou  art  oars  ;  the  heavens  are  ours ;  the  eternal  world  is 
ours  ;  life  is  ours ;  death  shall  be  ours.  All  things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love 
God,  and  that  are  called  according  to  his  promises.  We  rejoice  that  thus  we  need  not  flee  thee. 
We  seek  thee  that  we  may  find  ourselves.  We  are  strengthened  in  the  degree  in  which  thou 
thyself  dost  dwell  in  us,  and  weakened  as  we  expel  thee.  Grant  that  we  may  understand  this 
sacred  mj-stery  more  and  more,  that  we  may  grow  up  into  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  our  Hcadm  all 
things,  and  that  we  may  attain  to  the  stature  of  perfect  men  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord. 

We  thank  thee  that  we  have  some  insight ;  and  yet,  as  children  that  explore  the  unknown 
shores  of  a  mighty  continent,  and  are  hid  in  every  indentation,  and  know  only  that  the  heaven 
stretches  above  them,  that  an  unknown  land  is  behind  them,  and  that  the  unexplored  sea  lies  be- 
fore them,  so  are  we  who  creep  timidly  round  about  the  edges  of  knowledge,  and  seek  to  find 


194  DIVINE  INFL  UENCE  ON  THE  UUMAN  SO  UL. 

out  God,  -uhom  no  man  shall  search  and  know.  Grant  unto  us,  therefore,  not  so  much  the  ambi- 
tion to  know  thee,  and  all  thy  ways,  as  to  know  Immanuel— G't^t?  with  vs.  May  we  seek  to  know 
what  thy  will  is  in  us ;  how  we  should  go.  May  we  learn  thy  dispositions  for  the  sake  of  har- 
monizing our  own.  May  we  study  the  record  of  thy  providence  through  long  ages  in  thy  Word, 
and  may  we  find  there  what  is  thy  will,  and  so  what  our  duty  is.  And  grant  that  thus,  going  from 
step  to  step,  with  humility  and  with  obedience,  we  may  have  more  given  of  thee,  who  profit  by 
the  little  which  we  have.  We  rejoice  that  to  them  that  have  shall  be  given,  that  every  attainment 
has  in  it  the  promise  of  yet  greater  power  of  help,  and  that  thou  art  waiting  to  be  gracious  to 
every  one  that  needs  blessing. 

We  need  it  this  morning,  every  one  of  us.  Some  come  drooping  with  sorrows.  Some  are 
overborne  with  unexpected  tribulations.  Some  carry  immedicable  wounds  of  long  griefs.  Some 
dwell  in  the  twilight,  making  twilight  without  stars.  Some,  overtasked,  are  ready  to  perish  in 
their  thought ;  and  many  there  be  whose  trouble  is  greater  than  they  can  bear,  and  who  yet  bear 
it ;  who  cry  out  for  death,  and  behold  only  life,  and  loathe  it,  and  long  to  be  free  from  it. 

O  thou  that  dost  sf  arch  all  hearts  I  what  wilt  thou  do  with  the  children  of  sorrow  ?  Art  not 
thou  revealed  as  the  Comforter  ?  Bring,  this  morning,  the  consolations  of  thy  Spirit  to  the  hearts 
of  all  the  needy  ;  and  if  it  be  not  the  way  to  take  ofi" grief,  or  to  remove  burdens,  or  to  lift  care,  or 
to  send  the  joy  for  which  men's  hearts  pine,  give  that  which  is  above  all  other  things,  the  secret 
life  of  God  in  the  soul,  by  which  it  is  able  to  bear  to  be  in  need  of  all  things  ;  by  which  joy  shall 
spring  up  in  it,  though  all  things  fail  without  it. 

Grant  to  every  one  a  living  faith  in  thee,  in  thy  presence,  in  thy  ministering  care  and  watch- 
fulness, in  thy  sympathy  and  love,  in  thy  blessed  promises  of  immortality.  And  so  may  they  be 
strong  in  God  who  in  vain  have  sought  to  make  themselves  strong  in  themselves  and  in  the  world. 

We  pray  that  thou  wilt  draw  near  to  all  this  mornmg  that  come  with  their  various  cares  and 
duties.  Draw  near  to  those  who  are  perplexed.  Draw  near  to  those  who  are  in  the  midst  of  life'B 
pleasures,  its  stimulating  motives,  its  pains  and  joys  alike.  Shed  the  wholesome  influence  of  thy 
Spirit  upon  them.  Grant  that  they  may  know  enough  of  thy  providence  to  see  the  way  in  which 
they  shall  go,  that  they  may  make  all  things  bright  in  the  sunlight  of  thy  face.  Grant  that  they  may 
to-day  stand  in  the  light  of  thy  countenance.  And  may  their  later  life  be  irradiated  by  a  higher 
and  a  diviner  light. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  blessing  to  those  who  are  in  emergencies  of 
trouble,  whom  thou  dost  call  to  stand  for  others,  and  who  bear  the  weights  and  cares  of  men.  O 
Lord  1  strengthen  them ;  and  may  they  rejoice  to  be  like  Christ,  and  to  carry  the  sorrows  of  men, 
and  their  sulTerings,  in  their  own  bosom. 

O  that  there  might  be  found  joyful  sufierers  1  O  that  there  might  be  more  sacrifices  1  O 
that  there  might  be  more  men  and  women  desirous,  not  to  sacrifice  themselves  outwardly,  not 
to  slay  the  body,  but  to  give  their  thought-power,  their  moral  power,  their  heart-power,  and 
all  their  life-power,  to  rescue  men  from  bondage  1  Grant  that  there  may  be  those  who  shall 
know  no  hi; her  jo>  than  to  teach  men  of  Christ,  of  immortality.  We  pray  that  there  maybe 
silently  moving  in  the  thoughts  of  the  young  in  our  midst,  in  many  and  many  a  one,  questionings 
as  to  whether  God  hath  not  called  them  into  the  harvest-field  to  be  laborers  with  him. 

We  pray  that  thou  wilt  bless,  all  over  our  land,  the  churches  that  are  established,  of  every 
name,  and  all  who  are  preaching  therein.  May  they  less  and  less  consider  those  things  which  are 
divisions  among  Christians,  and  more  and  more  may  they  rejoice  in  those  things  in  which  all  true 
love.  -  of  Christ  agree.  And  we  pray  that  thy  word  may  be  more  and  more  a  rebuke  to  iniquity, 
and  a  testimony  to  the  power  of  good. 

And  grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  the  endeavors  that  are  making  for  the  increase  of  intelligence 
may  be  divinely  guided.  And  may  there  be  not  alone  the  intelligence  which  comes  from  the  un- 
derstanding, but  also  that  which  comes  from  the  luminous  heart,  purified  and  made  meet  for 
heaven. 

Bless  the  ignorant ;  bless  the  poor  and  the  needy.    Turn  the  hearts  of  men  toward  them. 

Bless  all  the  institutions,  and  all  the  organized  labors,  by  which  wc  seek  to  send  out  the  light 
of  truth  to  every  part  of  this  land. 

Grant  that  all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  that  so  long  have  waited  for  thee,  may  hear  at  last  thy 
footsteps  coming  !  And  if  thou  must  go  sounding  on  with  revolutions,  even  so,  come.  Lord  Jesus — 
come  quickly.  Tarry  not,  but  cut  short  thy  work  in  righteousness.  Oh  1  come,  as  the  dew 
comes ;  come  as  the  rains  come  ;  come  as  the  summer  comes  upon  the  winter ;  come,  and  by  silent 
influences  wrestle  mightily,  and  prevail,  not  for  rugged  rending  and  uptearing,  but  for  those  great 
changes  by  which  men  shall  rise  from  ignorance  to  light,  and  from  impurity  to  integrity,  and  from 
superstition  to  the  worship  of  the  true  God.  And  make  men  so  strong  that  no  tyrant  shall  be  big 
enough  to  hold  them  down.    Lift  up  the  people.    Then  shall  thrones  go  down  themselves. 

Fill  the  whole  earth  thus  with  thy  salvation ;  and  to  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit 
■hall  be  praii  js  everlasting.    Amen. 


XIII. 

MORAL  AFFINITY. 
THE     TETJE     GEOUI^D     OF     UJSTITY. 


Moral  Affixity  the  True  Ground  of  Unity. 


SUNDAY  MORNING,  DECEilBER  6,  1868. 


"  While  te  yet  talked  to  tlie  people,  behold,  Ms  mother  and  Ms  brethren  stood 
without,  desiring  to  speak  with  him.  Then  one  said  unto  him.  Behold,  thv  mother 
and  thy  brethren  stand  without,  desiring  to  speak  with  thee.  But  he  answered 
and  said  unto  him  that  told  Mm,  ^^^lo  is  my  mother  ?  and  who  are  my  brethren  ? 
And  he  stretched  forth  Ms  hand  toward  Ms  disciples,  and  said,  Behold  my  mother 
and  my  brethren]  For  whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  my  Father  which  is  in 
heaven,  the  same  is  my  brother,  and  sister,  and  mother.''— Matt.  sii.  46-50. 


It  has  been  said  that  this  speech  of  our  Lord  was  rude,  and  even 
harsh  and  unfeeling.  I  am  at  a  loss  to  imagine  how  any  one  could  form 
such  a  judgment.  If  I  had  been  called  to  select  a  passage  from  our 
Saviour's  teaching  as  an  instance  of  his  peculiar  manner,  and  of  the 
beauty  and  wisdom  of  that  raannerj  I  know  of  none  better  to  be 
taken  than  this. 

For  some  reason  his  mother  and  his  brethren  urgently  wished 
to  speak  to  him — so  urgently  that  word  was  sent  to  him  while 
yet  he  was  in  full  discourse  with  the  people.  Such  a  message  to  a 
common  person  would  suggest  domestic  matters  ;  as,  "  "Why  would 
my  mother  speak  with  me  ?"  '"  What  hath  she  to  say  ?''  or,  "  Hath 
aught  befallen  any  one  ?"  But  these  are  the  lower  ranges  of  thought. 
The  household,  and  th^  sacred  names  in  it,  suggest  fitly  household 
life  and  household  care.  Yet  these  are  the  lower  suggestions.  They 
belong  to  the  indispensable  yet  mechanical  elements  of  secular  affairs. 

Our  Savioui''s  mind  always  glanced,  up  ward  from  every  topic — not 
downward.  The  largest  earthly  relations,  but  still  more  frequently 
the  spiritual  and  heavenly  sugsfestions,  arising  from  every  topic 
brought  before  him,  were  invariably  suggested  to  him.  He  did  not 
act  like  a  man  of  the  earth,  earthy,  but  rather  like  one  who  came 

Lesson  :  Rev.  xxL      Htmns  (Plymouth  Collection) :  1239, 1233, 1257. 


196      MOBAL  AFFIXITY  THE  TRVE  GHOU^fD  OF  UNITT. 

down  from  heaven,  and  who  had  a  wider  horizon,  and  saw  things  in 
their  superior  relationships. 

In  the  remarkable  case  in  band,  onr  Lord,  when  told  that  his 
mother  and  his  brethren  stood  waiting  to  speak  with  him,  felt  in- 
stantlv  that  there  were  affinities  and  relationships  far  higher  and 
wider  than  those  constituted  by  the  earthly  necessities  of  family  life. 
As  it  is  the  mother's  and  the  father's  heart  that  makes  the  family 
dear ;  as  it  is  the  love  of  brother  and  sister  that  constitutes  true  friend- 
shij),  and  not  mere  contiguity,  or  the  bare  juxtaposition  of  family  life^ 
so  the  Master,  unfolding  this  idea,  and  employing  the  incident  as  a 
theme,  developed  the  sublime  doctrine  of  moral  imity — of  universal 
relationship  foimded  upon  moral  affinities. 

It  was  as  if  he  had  said,  "Truly,  she  Is  my  mother,  and  they  are 
my  brethren ;  but  in  the  higher  life,  iiot  alone  the  one  who  reared  me, 
but  every  one  who  is  like  her,  is  mine.  Xot  alone  the  gentler  com- 
panions of  my  childhood  are  brothers  and  sisters,  but  all  who  have  pure 
and  large  hearts.  For  all  true  relationship  springs  from  moral  states, 
and  not  from  the  mechanical  arrangements  of  society.  God  is  the 
one  Father,  and  all  men  become  intimately  related  to  each  other  in 
proportion  as  they  are  intimately  related  to  God." 

Is  this  a  rude  reply,  which  divests  the  relationships  of  life  of  their 
limitations  and  of  their  feebleness,  and  exalts  them  into  the  spiritual 
sphere,  and  there  gives  to  them  the  purity,  the  dignity,  and  the  lib- 
erty of  the  divine  nature?  This  was  a  compliment  to  true  glory.  The 
name  Mother  suggested  to  him  God — and  Avhat  praise  is  there  higher 
than  that  ?  Her  affection  for  her  son  opened  to  his  thought  the  uni- 
versal affection;  which,  in  the  final  but  yet  hidden  kingdom  of  God, 
exists,  and  shall  exist,  between  all  pure  natures. 

It  is  worth  our  while  to  observe  that  there  is  indicated,  and,  if  yon 
search  narrowly,  clearly  to  be  discerned,  a  certain  order  and  tendency 
of  alliances.  Men  are  coming  together  by  various  attractions,  and 
are  being  united  to  each  other  by  a  great  many  different  ties.  They 
are  not  accidental,  nor  hetei'ogeneous.  Tliey  have  a  definite  order, 
and  proceed  from  a  lower  to  a  higher.  -Men  coalesce  into  relationships, 
first,  mechanicallv,  on  account  of  the  organic  institutions  of  society. 
The  familv  brinc^s  us  one  to  another.  We  can  not  choose  who  shall 
be  our  companions  in  the  ci-adle.  We  wake  up  and  find  them  already 
there.  And  whether  they  be  suitable  or  not,  they  are  our  brothers  • 
they  are  our  sisters ;  they  are  our  parents ;  they  are  car  near  con 
nections.  And  so  the  family,  by  a  mere  mechanical  arrangement,  aa 
it  were,  by  a  physical  causation,  determines,  first,  the  relationshipa 
which  men  shall  sustain  to  each  other.  Out  of  these  speedily  begin 
also  to  develop  other  ones. 

The  school  comes  next,  and  we  begin  to  be  interested,  and  to  be  in 


MORAL  AFFINITY  TUB  TRUE  GROrNB  OF  UXITY.      197 

affinities  one  with  anotlier,  by  the  sports,  if  not  by  the  intellectual 
sympathies,  which  are  developed  in  the  school.  And  these  constitute, 
sometimes,  life-long  bonds. 

Then  comes  the  state,  and  its  political  sxibdivisions,  and  we  are 
united  to  each  other  because  we  are  of  one  nation,  and  of  one  flag. 
This  is  a  latent  feeling  often.  I  had  lived  all  my  life  long  without 
being  conscious  of  what  my  feeling  toward  my  native  country  was, 
until  I  stood  in  a  foreign  land,  and  heard  it  debated,  whether  it  de- 
served to  live.  Then  I  knew  that  there  was  not  a  man  under  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  that  was  not  as  dear  to  me  as  my  brother,  and  for 
whom  I  would  not  have  fought  to  the  uttermost.  I  fcneio  it  then.  I 
scarcely  had  thought  about  it  before.  And  this  alliance,  this  affinity, 
this  coalescence  of  man  with  man,  is  determined  largely  by  the  ac- 
cident, if  I  may  so  say,  by  the  providence  of  his  birth,  in  village,  in 
town,  in  state,  in  nation,  and  stock  or  race. 

But  there  are  other  alliances  jjlaying  within  these.  Men  are  drawn 
to  each  other  by  self-interest — and  strange  company  trains  together. 
Only  let  self-interest  be  strong  and  various,  and  men  can  endure 
almost  any  thing.  Men  can  endure  men  and  conduct  that  their  con- 
sciences never  would  endure  and  that  their  love  never  would  endure. 
Only  let  it  be  a  man's  selfish  interest  to  be  patient,  to  hold  his  peace,  to 
consort  with  most  undesired  associates ;  only  let  it  steadily  tend  to  build 
him  up  in  respects  in  which  his  selfishness  longs  to  be  built  up,  and 
he  acts  accordingly.  Let  it  advance  his  ambition,  and  ambition  does 
not  care  for  its  bed-fellows.  Let  it  make  a  man  rich,  and  for  the  sake 
of  money  men  will  tolerate  almost  any  thing  among  men.  Their 
lower  nature  has  a  charity,  a  patience,  a  forbearance,  that  their  higher 
nature  has  not.  Because  when  their  interests  are  not  involved,  and 
you  ask  them,  for  Chnst's  sake,  and  for  conscience'  sake,  and  for  be- 
nevolence' sake,  and  for  charity's  sake,  and  for  love's  sake,  to  be  pa- 
tient with  men,  they  will  not  for  a  moment.  It  is  only  when 
their  self-interest  demands  it  that  they  are  able  to  bear  the  burden  of 
the  depravity  of  their  fellow-men.  And  so  I  bless  God.  Why? 
Because  men  are  selfish  ?  Xo ;  but  because  God  has  a  providential 
government  over  this  world,  which  makes  men  act  right  even  from 
low  motives.     How  much  more  they  ought  to  act  from  high  ones ! 

This  patience  and  forbearance  between  men  from  self-interest  is 
right.  The  wrong  is,  that  it  is  not  more  gloriously  developed,  and 
more  resplendently  exhibited  by  the  higher  feelings.  And  so  it  has 
been  said  that  justice  itself  starts  from  self-interest,  and  that  almost 
ail  the  higher  tendencies  of  human  nature  begin  in  these  lower  in- 
stincts. 

Similarities  of  taste  also  draw  men  together  by  elective  affinities. 
Men  who  find  themselves  open  to  the  same  pleasure,  and  coincident 


198      MORAL  AFFIXITY  THE  TRUE  GROUND  OF  UmTY. 

of  the  same  thouglit,  who  help  each  otlier,  who  reflect,  as  it  were, 
each  other's  natures,  who  complement  each  other ;  men  between  whose 
souls  there  are  echoes  constantly  passing,  Avhose  thoughts  rebound 
from  those  of  each  other,  and  whose  feelings  perpetually  rebound ; 
men  of  like  tastes — they  own  relationship.  And  sometimes  it  is 
stronger  than  natural  affinities — as  it  ought  to  be.  It  is  higher  than 
tliey  are. 

Then  comes  interchange  of  kindly  services.  How  strongly  that 
binds  man  to  man,  I  need  not  say.  How  we  love  those  that  stood  us 
in  stead  in  our  trouble  !  How,  when  our  turn  comes,  and  we  stand 
by  their  side  in  the  dark  hour,  who  once  stood  by  ours,  are  we  con- 
scious that,  in  these  noble  interchanges  of  disinterested  service,  there 
is  springing  up  a  manly  affection  that  is  far  stronger  than  the  natui'al 
.sentiment  of  affection  ! 

Then,  by  general  good-Avill  or  benevolence,  we  are  united  to  men. 
Kind  natures  run  toward  kind  natures.  Charitable  natures  call  forth 
charitable  natures.     Good  men  are  lovers  of  good  men. 

Still  higher  than  this  comes  personal  affection,  discriminating  affec- 
tion— not  indiscriminate  affection  or  good-will,  but  that  affection  which 
is  founded  upon  the  recognition  of  positive  excellences.  This  stands 
still  higher. 

When  yoit  go  one  step  further  than  this,  and  all  this  life  is  united 
together  with  the  life  of  other  men,  disinterestedly,  in  common  suf- 
ferings and  common  achievements  for  a  noble  cause  ;  when  hope, 
and  faith,  and  endurance,  and  selfdenial,  in  companionshijj,  strive 
for  the  alleviation  of  sin  and  of  suffering,  and  men  train  together, 
doing  the  works  of  God,  then  you  have  reached  the  highest  ground 
of  affinity  and  of  coalescence  in  this  world. 

You  will  observe  that  now  we  begin  to  recognize  men  as  related  to 
us  in  our  lowest  animal  conditions,  and  that  these  relationships  go  on 
multiplying,  and  that  there  is  a  definite  order  by  which  they  rise  from 
mere  mechanical  relationships,  up  through  affectional  relationships, 
through  self-interest,  through  relationships  of  taste  and  understanding, 
into  relationships  of  the  higher  moral  feelings.  The  truth  is,  that 
those  relationships  which  begin  lowest  down,  although  they  are  apt 
to  be  the  most  intense,  and  to  produce  the  most  vivid  impressions 
and  sensations,  are  inferior;  and  that  those  relationships  which  seem 
to  us  for  the  most  part  shadowy,  and  often  even  romantic  and  imagi- 
nary, are,  after  all,  the  most  vital,  the  most  manly.  They  are  those 
states  toward  which  we  are  growing,  and  into  which  we  develop,  if 
we  are  developing  into  a  true  civilization  and  religion. 

"With  every  true  man  these  affinities  of  his  higher  nature  should 
control  all  lower  and  instrumental  ones.  "We  are  to  stand  nearer 
and  stronger  together — stronger  in  our  attachments  one  to  another — 


MORAL  AFFINITY  TEE  TRUE  GROUND  OF  UNITY.      199 

by  those  things  which  we  have  in  common  with  God,  than  by  those 
things  which  we  liave  in  common  with  the  animals.  And  yet,  in  point 
of  fact,  it  is  the  reverse.  "We  love  those  that  are  born  of  the  same 
mother,  that  sleep  in  the  same  cradle,  that  feed  at  the  same  table. 
Still  following  the  line  of  physical  development,  we  love  those  that 
work  as  we  work,  that  contribute  to  the  common  stock,  that  are  re- 
lated to  us,  or  that,  as  we  say,  are  "  blood  kin."  "We  ought  to  love 
them ;  but  Ave  ought  to  grow  out  of  that  love  into  a  higher  one.  Even 
though  we  begin  in  this  lower  sphere,  as  all  animals  do,  it  is  not  a 
fact  that,  because  we  are  born  under  the  same  roof,  and  because  we 
have  this  social  juxtaposition,  we  find  each  other  out,  as  a  matter 
of  course,  in  our  higher  and  nobler  parts.  If  I  may  so  say,  the  clasp- 
ing of  early  life  should  take  on  very  soon  the  form  of  taste,  and  of 
affection,  and  of  benevolence,  and  of  moral  feeling ;  and  at  last  love 
should  take  on  the  highest  form  of  religious  feeling. 

This,  it  seems  to  me,  is  the  legitimate  deduction  from  the  passage 
which  we  have  selected,  and  which  we  have  expounded. 

"  Then  one  said  unto  him,  Behold,  thy  mother  and  tliy  brethren 
stand  without,  desiring  to  speak  with  thee.  But  he  said  unto  him 
that  told  him,  "Who  is  my  mother?  and  who  are  my  brethren  ?" 

"  "Who  is  my  mother '?"  To  be  sure,  she  that  bore  him  ;  but  can 
not  a  man  have  more  tlian  one  mother?  In  the  lower  sense,  No;  in 
the  higlier  sense,  Yes.  "  "Who  are  my  brethren  ?"  They  that  slept 
upon  the  same  maternal  bosom  that  I  slept  upon  ?  Only  in  the  lower 
relationship  are  they  brethren.  But  may  there  not  be  a  higher  and  a 
spiritual  relationship,  which  shall  make  those  who  are  like  me,  or 
like  me  in  the  respects  in  which  I  deserve  to  be  loved,  my  brethren 
too? 

"  And  he  stretched  forth  his  hand  toward  the  disciples  " — who 
represent  all  men  who  are  aspiring  and  attempting  to  live  a  higlier 
and  a  godly  life — "  and  said,  Behold  my  mother  and  my  brethren  !" 

There  were  twelve  men,  and  he  called  them  mother.  There  is  no 
sex  known  in  the  higher  sphere.  That  is  accidental  and  earthy,  and 
it  passes  away.  These  higher  relationships  not  only  are  higher  in 
respect  to  intensity  and  purity,  but  they  dispossess  the  mechanical 
necessities  of  the  lower  relationshijjs.  All  who,  like  these  twelve 
brethren  tliat  follow  ra}^  footsteps,  are  seeking  day  by  day  to  do  the 
will  of  God — they  are  my  mother. 

"For  whosoever  shall  do  the  will  of  my  Father  which  is  in 
heaven,  the  same  is  my  brother,  and  sister,  and  mother." 

There  is  not  a  person  on  earth,  earnestly  and  sincerely  endeavor- 
ing to  find  out  the  will  of  God,  and  to  perform  that  will,  to  whom 
Christ  is  not  manifested  as  mother,  as  father,  as  brother,  as  sister,  as 
the  most  intimate  friend. 


200      MORAL  AFFINITY  THE  TRUE  GROUND  OF  UNITY. 

I  remark,  then,  in  view  of  this  truth  so  far  unfolded  : 

1.  It  is  the  real  and  proper  tendency  of  all  moral  affections  to 
seek  each  other,  and  to  coalesce.  The  lower  feelings  and  the  me- 
chanical instruments  of  life  are,  to  a  certain  extent,  centrifugal. 
They  fly  away  from  each  other.  Policy,  and  self-interest,  and  con- 
ceit, and  dogma,  and  ordinances,  and  administrations,  and  gifts,  in 
our  lower  life,  are  perpetually  separating  men.  Policies  are  neces- 
sary ;  self-interest,  within  due  bounds,  is  right ;  dogma  is  indispensa- 
ble ;  ordinances  are  appointed  ;  administrations  and  gifts  are  rational, 
and  are  justified  by  their  use;  nevertheless  they  are  all  instruments, 
and  they  all  belong  to  the  hand,  not  to  the  heart.  They  are  low 
down.  And  experience  shows  that  men  who  live  in  those  things  are 
apt  to  idolize  them  in  such  a  way  that  the  very  instruments  of  edu- 
cation, by  Avhieh  God  meant  the  world  to  be  improved,  and  being 
improved  to  grow  together,  are  divisive  influences.  They  separate 
men ;  they  sift  men  and  sort  them,  and  keep  them  apart. 

"Why  are  men  looking  with  the  cold  eye  of  rebuke  upon  each  other, 
but  that  they  go  to  different  churches  ?  Why  do  men  refuse  to  clasp 
hands  with  most  cordial  sympathy  ?  They  differ  as  to  ordinances. 
The  ordinance  itself  is  but  a  shadow  and  a  type.  It  merely  repre- 
sents a  moral  thing.  They  agree  in  the  moral  feeling,  as  Avell  as  in 
the  desire  to  conform  to  God's  wishes  ;  but  they  differ  in  the  external 
form. 

It  is  as  if  there  should  be  among  printers  different  sects,  one  of 
these  sects  making  the  letter  Q  with  a  long  tail,  and  the  other  with 
a  short  one ;  one  sect  having  the  type  cut  to  one  shape,  and  the  other 
to  another ;  one  sect  making  the  types  so  that  they  drop  low  down, 
and  tlie  other  so  that  they  are  chugged  far  up,  as  if  these  peculiari- 
ties were  essential.  It  is  as  if,  these  sects  existing,  each  should  argue 
for  and  defend  the  particular  shape  of  his  own  type. 

Now,  types  are  very  useful.  Some  are  better  than  others.  Some 
are  more  useful  than  others.  The  poorest  one  is  good  enough,  and 
the  best  one  is  onh/  a  type,  after  all.  They  are  mere  instruments  ;  and 
men  have  too  much  sense  to  quarrel  about  them.  It  is  only  when 
they  leave  types,  and  forms,  and  mechanical  arrangements,  wliich  are 
useful  in  the  lower  sphere,  and  come  to  these  elements  of  religious 
observance,  that  they  begin  to  set  themselves  up  upon  particulars, 
and  points,  and  minute  subdivisions  ;  and  divide,  and  afiiliate,  and  re- 
adjust their  relations;  and  altogether  lose  sight  of  the  common  pa- 
rentage, the  common  aspiration,  the  common  home,  and  the  common 
heaven,  and  drive  themselves  asunder  on  earth,  unsocially,  not  only, 
but  too  often  pugnaciously. 

The  only  and  the  true  union  among  men  in  matters  of  religion  is 
to  be  found  in  the  direction  of  the  truth  of  our  text.     That  is,  whose* 


MORAL  AFFINITY  THE  TRUE  GROUND  OF  UNITY.      201 

ever  does  the  will  of  God,  belongs  to  every  other  man  that  doos  the 
will  of  God.  Whosoever  with  his  whole  heart  strives  to  do  the  will 
of  God — and  that  is  the  most  that  any  man  can  do  in  this  world — 
"  He,"  says  Christ,  "  is  my  mother,  my  brother,  my  sister."  And  if 
that  relationship  is  claimed  by  the  Highest,  how  much  more  does  it 
belong  to  us  properly  to  claim  it !  If  he  that  is  of  purer  eyes  than 
to  behold  iniquity,  and  that  charges  his  angels  with  folly,  is  willing 
to  associate  himself  with  every  imperfect  nature  that  is  endeavoring  to 
do  the  will  of  God,  and  to  clasp  him  in  the  arms  of  the  true  church 
of  divine  love,  how  much  more  should  we,  in  our  imperfect  sphere! 

This  is  the  only  true  union  of  Christ's  church  on  earth.  It  is 
to  be  found  in  this  direction,  and  in  no  other.  The  affinity  and  af- 
fection of  like  natures  in  a  high  moral  sphere  constitutes  the  best 
union  possible.  All  attempts  to  coerce  a  union,  to  compromise  a 
union,  to  reason  men  into  an  external  union,  have  failed.  It  would 
seem  as  though  at  this  time  of  the  world  men  ought  to  be  so  far  de- 
Kvered  from  the  bondage  of  the  bodily  senses,  that  they  should  no 
longer  seek  after  material  union.  A  mere  gathering  together  of  all 
Christians,  as  it  were,  under  one  comprehensive  government,  would 
be  utterly  useless,  utterly  worthless,  if  you  could  get  it.  But  it  is 
impossible,  and  you  never  Avill  get  it,  thank  God  ! 

Yet  hoAV  many  associations,  how  many  tracts,  how  many  instru- 
mentalities of  various  kinds  are  employed,  now,  to  bring  the  whole 
church  of  God  on  earth  into  one  external,  material,  lower  union ! 
The  Oriental  Church  wants  every  thing  to  be  Greek  ;  and  the  Western 
Church  Wants  every  thing  to  be  Roman ;  and  the  Protestant  Church 
wants  every  thing  to  be  Protestant.  The  Pope,  in  his  great  benignity 
and  kindness — and  I  believe  that  he  meant  well — has  offered,  pre- 
vious to  the  great  council  that  is  about  to  assemble  in  Rome,  to  open 
the  doors,  and  invite  back  all  the  wandering  children.  Bless  his 
heart !  we  are  back.  We  love  God,  and  he  does  not  do  any  thing 
more  than  that.  The  Pope  is  my  brother,  and  I  am  his,  though  he 
will  not  own  me.  It  can  not  be  helped.  Relationship  does  not  de- 
pend on  your  consent  or  upon  mine.  He  that  is  born  of  my  mother 
is  my  brother,  whether  he  owns  it  or  not ;  and  he  that  is  born  of 
God,  if  I  am,  is  my  brother,  whether  he  owns  it  or  whether  I  own  it. 
It  does  not  stand  in  our  volition.  The  higher  should  disposess  the 
lower. 

Suppose  that  all  the  Christians  on  the  fiice  of  the  earth  should 
consent,  to-morrow,  to  call  themselves  Presbyterians,  would  they  be 
any  nearer  together  ?  Would  the  name  make  any  difference  ?  Sup- 
pose that  all  men  would  agree,  to-morrow,  to  become  Episcopalians, 
to  read  the  same  prayer-book,  and  to  sing  from  the  same  hymn- 
book,  so   that,   by  an   exact  calculation  of   time,  at    the   tick   of 


202      MOBAL  AFFINITY  THE  TRUE  GROUND  OF  UNITY. 

the  clock,  men  should  sing  the  same  words  to  the  same  tune,  every 
where,  all  over  the  world  ?  Would  there  be  any  advantage  in  it  ? 
Is  the  world  nothing  but  a  gi-eat  Babbage  calculating  machine?  and 
are  Ave  to  be  reduced  to  this  arithmetical  mode  of  estimating  things  ? 
Is  this  the  sum  of  all  the  ideas  that  we  have  gained  after  eighteen 
hundred  years  of  moral  growth  and  development,  that  we  are  still 
racketing  about,  and  trying  to  push  and  pull  men  into  mere  material 
contiguity,  and  calling  that  union  f  As  if  there  would  be  any  more 
unity  if  you  had  a  common  pope,  and  a  hundred  common  bishops, 
and  any  number  of  common  presbyters,  or  class-leaders.  I  do  not 
care  what  your  form  of  organization  may  be  ;  what  I  insist  upon 
is,  that  Christ  be  represented.  And  I  say  that  relationship  is  in- 
side, and  not  outside.  It  belongs  to  the  soul,  to  the  heart,  to  the 
spirit ;  and  he  that  loves  God  is  the  brother  and  sister,  the  mother  and 
father  of  every  other  soul  on  the  globe  that  loves  God.  And  that  is 
the  only  union  that  you  will  ever  have.  For  if  there  be  one  law  which 
modern  science  has  developed  more  clearly  than  another,  it  is  that 
the  initial  steps,  the  beginnings  of  things,  are  all  simple,  are  all  uni- 
form, and  that  development  and  growth  toward  perfection  takes  place 
by  the  great  law  of  differentiation,  and  that  perfectness  is  character- 
ized by  diversity,  and  not  by  similarity.  The  higher  up  you  go,  the 
more  things  endlessly  branch  and  diversify. 

Suppose  that  the  butt  of  an  oak-tree  should  take  it  into  its  head  to 
be  one  of  the  modern  theologians,  and  should  insist  upon  unity,  and 
should  say  to  all  the  branches,  "  Come  back !  You  have  been  spread- 
ing to  dangerous  latitudes  and  longitudes.  Come  and  get  back  into 
my  loins  here.  Be  united  in  me."  What  would  the  tree  be  worth 
for  bird  or  for  beast,  for  painter  or  for  man?  If  you  were  to  reduce 
it  back  again  into  that  state  in  which  it  would  be  nearest  to  absolute 
unity,  you  would  carry  it  back  into  the  condition  of  the  acorn,  or 
into  the  condition  of  wood.  And  as  you  carry  it  away  from  its  sem- 
inal point,  you  carry  it  where  there  are  subdivisions,  disclosures, 
these  dividing  again  infinitesimally.  And  this  is  not  simply  an  illus- 
tration :  it  is  an  absolute  and  established  philosophical  law,  that  per- 
fection lies  in  the  direction  of  disclosure,  diversity,  differentiation. 

Now,  this  is  just  as  true  in  the  moral  as  it  is  in  the  scientific  Avorld ; 
and  the  perfection  of  the  church  is  never  to  be  found  in  its  lower 
forms  of  stupid  union.  It  is  never  to  be  found  in  niere  contiguity  or 
in  the  similarity  of  its  lower  forms.  It  is  to  be  found,  if  anywhere, 
in  a  splendid  divergence  of  thought  and  feeling.  And  all  harmo- 
nies are  to  be  in  the  direction  of  diversity.  Love  of  God,  love  of 
purity,  love  of  goodness  in  men  and  things — that  is  to  unite  men, 
while,  in  all  their  tastes,  in  all  their  specialties  of  judgment,  and 
in  all  their  ten  thousand  wavs  and  manners  of  life,  they  are  to  be 


MOBAL  AFFINITY  THE  TRUE  GROUND  OF  UNITY.      203 

just  as  various  as  are  the  different  leaves  of  the  forest,  and  the  differ- 
ent flowers  of  the  fieki,  and  the  different  fruits  of  tlie  orchard.  Our 
God  is  a  God  of  immense  variety ;  and  when  things  are  one,  they 
are  dead.  And  what  people  are  trying  for  in  the  church  is  the  unity 
of  the  stagnant  pool,  the  unity  of  the  sepulchre  ;  but  they  never  will 
have  it. 

The  cure  of  dissent,  and  the  cure  of  infidelity,  both,  I  think,  are 
to  be  found  in  this,  that  all  men  recognize  God.  And  this  recognition 
in  men  of  the  divine  element  is  to  be  the  ground  of  relationship.  I 
do  not  think  that  infidelity  is  to  be  scourged  out  of  the  world  by  the 
understanding.  I  believe  it  is  to  be  melted  out  by  the  warm  shining 
of  the  human  heart.     Love  will  do  what  reason  never  could  do. 

2.  Human  affections  are  never  carried  to  their  full  power,  and 
sweetness,  and  beauty,  till  they  are  lifted  up  into  the  higher  sphere, 
and  become,  by  their  afiinities  and  associations,  religious.  It  is  not 
enough  to  love  the  human  that  is  in  man.  It  is  not  enough  for  the 
mother,  though  she  may  love  the  child's  infant  form,  though  she  may 
love  his  secular  development,  to  love  only  that.  If  only  that  is  loved, 
she  loves  dust ;  she  has  an  idol — not  a  child. 

Have  you  ever  stood  in  Dresden  to  watch  that  matchless  picture 
of  Raphael's  Madonna  di  San  Sisto  f  Engravings  of  it  are  all  through 
the  world ;  but  no  engraving  has  ever  reproduced  the  mother's  face. 
The  infant  Christ  that  she  holds  is  far  more  nearly  represented  than 
the  mother.  In  her  face  there  is  a  mist.  It  is  wonder,  it  is  love,  it 
is  adoration,  it  is  awe,  it  is  all  these  mingled,  as  if  she  held  in  her 
hands  her  babe,  and  yet  it  was  God ! 

That  picture  means  nothing  to  me  as  it  does  to  the  Roman  Church ; 
but  it  means  every  thing  to  me,  because  I  believe  that  every  mother 
should  love  the  God  that  is  in  her  child,  and  that  every  mother's 
heart  should  be  watching  to  discern  and  see  that  in  the  child 
which  is  more  than  flesh  and  blood — something  that  takes  hold  of 
immortality  and  glory.  And  as  our  children  grow  up  around  us,  as 
our  friends  grow  up  around  us,  we  are  to  seek  in  them,  and  perpetu- 
ally, not  that  which  is  like  the  flesh  in  us,  not  that  which  affiliates 
them  and  us  to  this  earthly  mechanical  condition  ;  but  that  which  is 
of  God,  that  which  is  to  live  after  the  body  dies,  and  we  should 
strive  to  lift  up  our  hearts'  affections  into  that  higher  sphere;  so  that, 
whatever  we  love,  we  shall  have  put  it  above  blast  and  above  frost ;  so 
that  we  shall  have  put  it  where  death  itself  can  only  glorify  it — can 
never  destroy  it. 

I  hold  that  all  affections  that  are  lower  than  this,  and  that  lack 
this,  are  like  the  old  Byzantine  pictures,  which  were  painted  on  a  flat 
ground  without  perspective.  There  was  nothing  behind  them.  They 
could  not  represent  distances.     They  lost  all  gradation  ;  they  lost  all 


204      MORAL  AFFIXITY  THE  TRUE  GROUXJ)  OF  UXFTY. 

the  subtle  charms  that  belong  to  painting  now.  And  no  one  loves 
wisely  now  who  only  loves  men  on  earth.  For  there  is  no  back- 
ground on  them.  There  is  no  room  for  perspective.  It  is  not  until 
you  love  those  creatures  that  are  but  dawning  here,  and  unfolding 
and  preparing  to  fly,  and  yet  shall  fly  higher  than  the  sun,  far  as 
where  God  is,  that  you  truly  love. 

An  unsanctified  affection  is,  therefore,  an  imperfect  one.  It  is  a 
low  reach,  it  may  be,  but  it  has  never  yet  come  to  its  true  and  full 
possession. 

3.  It  is  a  matter  of  great  rejoicing  to  those  that  ponder  the 
spirit  of  this  passage,  that  this  world,  after  all,  is  as  rich  as  it  is* 
Although  hearts  are  distributed,  and  are  unrecognized,  yet  you  can 
in  thought  feel  what  a  wealth  of  relationship  there  is,  after  all. 

I  never  read  a  book  of  a  fine  nature,  that  I  do  not  instantly  feel, 
""Well,  he  is  mine,  too."  The  Guerins — brother  and  sister — are  as 
much  mine  as  though  I  had  been  broiight  up  on  their  mother's  knee. 
Fenelon  is  mine.  Bossuet  is  mine.  All  those  noble  men  who  carried 
down  the  light  of  a  true  Christian  example  through  stormy  times, 
and  held  steadfastly  to  the  fiith,  and  suffered  nobly — they  are  mine. 
Pascal  is  mine.  Xewton  is  mine.  All  the  great  natures  of  the 
earth  that  have  lifted  themselves  up  under  tlie  genial  Sun  of  Right- 
eousness, and  have  begun  to  show  heavenly  colors  and  heavenly 
"blossoms— they  are  mine.  The  same  Father  is  mine.  The  same 
Saviour  is  mine.  And  I  hear  my  Saviour  saying,  "  All  those  that  do 
the  will  of  God  are  mothers  to  each  other,  brothers  to  each  other, 
sisters  to  each  other."  And  yet  the  world  does  not  know  it.  We 
can  not  speciiy  them.  Indeed,  people  almost  always  have  to  die  be- 
fore we  know  how  much  they  were  worth  loving.  "Wlien  they  are 
dead,  and  their  life  is  printed,  then  we  sit  down  and  read  it  all  through, 
and  we  rise  up  and  say,  "  Oh  !  that  I  could  only  have  lived  where  I 
could  have  seen  this  person."  The  probability  is,  that  you  are  living 
very  near  to  just  such  persons,  and  persons  even  better  than  they 
were ;  but  you  have  not  the  discernment  to  distinguish  them.  You 
live  by  sense — not  by  faith — not  by  your  higher  spiritual  vision. 
And  yet  I  look  out  upon  the  world,  and  say  to  myself,  "  The  world 
is  full  of  saints."  I  believe  there  never  were  so  many  saints  in  the 
world  as  there  are  to-day.  Xever  were  there  so  many  women  pro- 
perly to  be  called  sainted  women  as  there  are  to-day.  Xever  were 
there  so  many  men  fit  to  be  called  martyrs  and  saints  as  there  are  to- 
day. And  we  oueht  to  know  it  without  waiting  for  them  to  put  on 
their  grave-clothes — though  we  do  not. 

When  "WTiittier  writes  one  of  his  exquisite  odes,  ftill  of  sublimity, 
of  moral  feeling,  and  yet  full  of  witching  delicacies,  and  of  the  music 
and  harmony  of  verse,  and  sends  it  to  be  printed,  the  printer,  being 


MOBAL  AFFINITY  TEE  TRUE  GROUND  OF  UNITY.      205 

also  a  son  of  genius,  reads  it  through,  rejoicing  in  every  stanza,  and 
thanking  God  that  it  is  for  him  to  set  that  ixp.  And  he  goes  to  his 
case,  and  puts  his  copy  up  before  him.  Here  are  all  the  type ;  and 
he  might  say  in  himself,  if  he  was  a  creature  of  imagination,  "  There 
is  that  exquisite  ode ;  but  see  how  it  is  separated  in  those  different 
boxes !  Here  are  the  a's  and  the  5's  and  the  c^s  and  the  m's  and  the 
p's  and  the  ^'5,  and  the  punctuations.  They  are  lying  all  about  now ; 
nevertheless,  you  will  see  how  speedily  I  shall  bring  them  together 
and  make  that  ode  out."  And  he  takes  the  "  stick  "  in  one  hand,  and 
the  other  hand  goes  like  lightning  every  whither  among  the  boxes ; 
and  in  less  than  an  hour  these  types,  that  meant  nothing,  are  put  to- 
gether in  their  places,  and  behold  it  is  that  exquisite  ode  of  Whit- 
tier's  that  comes  out !  But  a  man  could  see  it  as  well  before  as  after, 
if  he  had  faith,  and  the  habit  of  looking  for  such  things. 

"When  God,  by  and  by,  shall  take  these  separate  creatures,  all 
over  the  world,  scattered  and  dispersed — true  sons  of  God,  noble 
hearts,  your  brothers,  your  sisters — and  they  are  ranked,  and  regis- 
tered, and  mustered,  and  marshaled,  then  they  will  shine  above  the 
brightness  of  the  sun,  in  the  "  general  assembly  and  church  of  the 
first-born."  And  you  will  rejoice  when  you  see  them  there.  And 
if  you  only  had  an  imagination,  and  a  heart  of  interpretation,  it 
seems  to  me  you  might  have  seen  them  here,  as  the  printer  saw  the 
ode  in  the  type  scattered  about  in  the  boxes.  The  world  is  full  of 
them,  but  they  are  scattered. 

Look  at  that  magnificent  goblet,  of  the  purest  crystal  glass,  and 
cut  so  that  it  is  a  prism,  making  the  sunlight  do  service  to  it,  and 
dissolving  and  controlling  it  in  beauty.  How  perfect  a  thing  it  is  ! 
And  how  the  child  and  the  man  alike  admire  it ! 

Where  did  that  goblet  come  from  ?  It  lay  strewn  along  the 
whole  shore  of  the  ocean.  It  was  beat  upon  by  the  thundering  waves, 
and  scowled  over  by  storms,  through  uncounted  generations.  There  it 
lay  scattered — white  sand.  By  and  by  came  the  hand  that  scraped 
it  up,  and  carried  it  to  the  factory.  It  was  there  put  under  an  intense 
fire,  and  fused ;  and  came  out  glass.  Then  it  was  I'un  all  glowing  into 
the  form  of  a  goblet.  And  after  being  subjected  to  the  wheel  of  an 
artistic  workman,  it  was  brought  out  in  this  exquisite  form.  It  is 
one,  now — oh  !  yes  ;  but  the  particles  which  compose  it  lay  along- 
side of  each  other  a  hundred  years,  a  hundred  centuries,  and  never 
one  of  them  said  to  another,  "How  do  you  do?"  Tet  they  were 
brethren,  and  were  destined  to  come  to  this  beauty  and  glory. 
One  and  another  of  you  thus  sit  by  the  side  of  persons  whom  yon 
hate  and  curse,  it  may  be,  from  misunderstanding  them.  By  and 
by  the  great  transforming  hand  of  Death — of  God  (for  what  is  the 
difference  between  the  names  ?) — will  take  the  persons  that  are  to 


206      MORAL  AFFINITY  THE  TRUE  GROUND  OF  UNITS. 

be  united  together,  and  of  tliem  will  make  those  magnificent  decora, 
tions  and  disclosures  of  the  other  life.  You  are  separated  now,  and 
you  do  not  recognize  each  other. 

It  is  a  great  comfort  to  me  to  think  that  men  are  not  what  they 
seem  to  me.  They  are  a  great  deal  better.  Better  ?  Better  and 
worse.     Better — those  that  are  better ! 

People  are  very  much,  in  this  world,  like  jewels  locked  up.  You 
may  bring  out  the  casket,  and  nobody  sees  the  flashing  of  the  jewels; 
but  if  you  will  open  it  and  take  them  out,  and  bring  them  into  a  fa- 
vorable light,  then  you  will  begin  to  discern  what  is  the  richness  of 
your  treasure.  We  have  so  much  to  do  besides  being  good  in  this 
world,  we  have  so  much  use  for  the  hand  and  for  the  foctt,  for  that 
which  is  material,  that  few  of  us  open  up  the  jewel-case  of  life,  and 
show  men  what  are  the  beauties  and  the  riches  of  that  which  is  with- 
in, which  God  thinks  of,  which  angels  watch  over,  which  eternity  is  to 
disclose,  and  which  is  to  make  heaven  radiant,  when  we  shall  shine 
above  the  brightness  of  the  stars. 

Ought  not  that  to  teach  us  charity  ?  Ought  not  that  to  teach  us  a 
larger  manhood,  and  a  larger  kindness  toward  men  ? 

4.  The  true  man  of  God,  in  our  day,  is  he  Avho  feels  most  sensi- 
tively his  relationsliip  to  the  divine  element  which  is  in  his  fellow- 
man.  I  believe  in  a  pope  !  Love  is  the  only  pope  that  should  be 
allowed  in  this  world,  I  believe  that  he  ought  to  have  supreme  sway, 
and  thfit  all  men  should  be  obedient  to  that  pope.  Love  is  the 
only  priesthood.  It  is  the  noblest  creed.  It  is  the  true  church.  It  is 
the  long-sought  union. 

He  that  has  the  beginnings  of  divine  love  in  him,  he  that  is  able 
to  see  the  most  of  it,  and  to  feel  it  most  sensitively,  is  the  truest  man, 
and  is  the  nearest  like  God. 

What  if  we  see  but  little  of  God  ?  What  if  in  men  we  see  but 
the  beginnings  ?  Let  us  at  least  treat  men  as  well  as  we  treat  our 
orchards.  If,  in  July,  I  go  into  my  orchard,  hanging  thick  with  fruit, 
and  all  of  it  is  sour,  and  not  half-grown,  I  do  not  attempt  to  ripen  it 
by  throwing  stones  and  sticks  at  it.  I  wait,  and  say,  "It  will  ripen 
in  its  own  good  time."  Oh  !  that  we  could  be  as  patient  with  each 
other  as  we  are  with  apple-trees.  Oh  !  that  men,  seeing  the  begin- 
nings of  good  things  in  men,  would  not  insist  upon  it  that  they  should 
rush  all  things  to  a  sudden  consummation,  and  shine  perfect  at  once. 
Oh  !  that  men  could  imderstand  that  growth  is  very  slow  ;  that  growth 
is  conflict ;  that  growth  is  suffering  ;  that  growth  is  endeavor  ;  that 
growth  requires  so  many  elements  that  it  will  never  be  consummated 
here  ! 

Therefore,  if  we  see  the  beginnings  of  excellence,  let  us  from 
these  seeds  prophesy  what  the  full  plant  and  blossom  shall  be,  and 


MOBAL  AFFINITY  TEE  TRUE  GROUND  OF  UNITY.      207 

what  the  orchard  shall  be  in  full  fruit.  He  that  has  this  large  charity- 
is  the  best  man,  he  is  the  strongest  man.  For  when  God  measures 
men  in  the  next  world,  I  do  not  think  he  will  put  the  tape  about 
their  head ;  I  think  he  will  put  it  about  their  heart ! 

5.  It  is  piteous  to  see  how  men  have  spent  their  lives  in  resist- 
ing their  relationships,  and  in  putting  trust  and  charity  upon  hard 
conditions. 

In  the  scientific  world  men  are  not  at  peace.  They  quarrel  al- 
most as  much  as  if  they  were  ministers  of  the  Gospel !  Artists  are 
not  at  peace.  You  would  think  they  were  church-members  !  Pa- 
triotic men  are  not  at  peace  with  each  other.  They  are  perpetually 
full  of  suspicions  and  squabbles.  Industry  is  quarreling  with  its 
subordinate  industries.  Polity  is  quarreling  with  its  various  instru- 
mentations. Much  in  religion  and  out  of  it,  much  in  science  and  out 
of  it,  much  in  literature  and  out  of  it,  much  in  politics  and  out  of  it, 
is  not  at  peace.  All  the  world  over,  the  animal  is  yet  raging  in 
man,  and  men  know  not  how  to  accept  each  other,  how  to  come 
into  congruities,  and  how  to  rejoice  more  in  the  things  in  which  they 
are  alike,  than  to  hate  in  the  things  in  which  they  differ.  And  so  we 
are  perpetually  rousing  up  asperities,  magnifying  differences,  and 
finding  reasons  of  sepai'ation.  Partly  from  conceit,  partly  from 
pride,  and  partly  from  misapprehension  and  unwise  instruction,  we 
are  attempting  to  make  men  perfect  before  we  love  them,  and  to 
fight  them  until  they  are  perfect.  And  ah  !  what  a  resounding 
quarrel  has  been  going  on  among  men ! 

In  Western  life,  where  the  formers  raise  scores  and  hundreds  of 
swine,  sending  their  corn  to  market  on  four  feet,  when  the  winter 
nights  come,  these  swine,  having  no  shelter,  and  sleeping  out  of 
doors,  make  the  night  hideous.  Every  one  who  has  lived  there  is 
familiar  with  the  sound  that  rises  on  the  air  every  night,  when  the 
outside  ones,  becoming  chilled,  and  determined  to  have  the  warm 
places,  strive  to  get  inside,  until  with  growing  rebukes,  and  loud 
grunts,  and  fierce  protestations,  at  last  the  whole  flock  break  out  in 
one  wild  yell,  and  tooth  and  tusk  each  other,  and  then  come  together 
again,  driven  back  by  the  cold,  and  lie  down  in  cohabitation  once 
more ! 

That  is  the  world  all  over.  The  vast,  swinish  brood  of  men  in 
society  are  fighting,  some  to  get  inside,  and  others  to  keep  them 
out ;  and  the  law  of  combativeness,  the  law  of  destructiveness,  is 
mightier  in  the  great  sphere  of  society-life  than  the  law  of  construc- 
tive love  and  the  law  of  consolidation. 

Brethren,  I  do  not  undertake  to  say  that  doctrines  are  unimport- 
ant ;  for  I  do  not  believe  they  are  unimportant.  I  do  not  undertake 
to  say  that  the  world  is  going  to  be  cured  when  you  have  thrown  all 


208      MORAL  AFFINITY  THE  TRUE  GROUND  OF  UNITY. 

creeds  away.  Human  hearts  will  stay  if  you  throw  away  all  the 
creeds  in  the  world.  It  is  not  that;  but  human  nature  must  be 
changed,  or  the  world  will  never  see  rest  or  peace.  And  we  must 
change  it  in  this  one  direction — away  from  the  animal,  and  toward 
the  spiritual ;  away  from  the  hating  principle  and  the  fighting  prin- 
ciple, and  toward  the  loving  principle.  He  that  is  the  most  forward 
in  that  direction,  and  the  most  tolerant,  and  the  most  patient,  and 
the  most  charitable,  and  the  most  gentle,  and  that  finds  himself  able 
to  love  the  most,  and  to  see  the  most  in  each  person  to  admire,  and 
to  thank  God  for — that  man,  I  think,  stands  highest  in  the  kingdom 
of  heaven.  Yea,  he  that  sees  these  things  not  only,  but  in  honor 
prefers  men ;  who  feels  that  other  men  are  better  than  he,  perhaps, 
in  these  respects,  when  they  are  not ;  he  that  is  willing  to  serve  his 
fellow-men  for  the  sake  of  that  which  is  in  them  ;  he  that  has  that 
illustrious  nobility  which  shone  in  Paul,  when  he  said,  "  Some  preach 
Christ  of  contention,  not  sincerely,  supposing  to  add  affliction  to 
my  bonds."  "  "What  then  ?  notwithstanding,  every  way,  whether  in 
pretense,  or  in  truth,  Christ  is  preached  ;  and  I  therein  do  rejoice ;" 
he  that  is  willing  to  suffer  for  others,  and  to  bear  others*  faults,  if  by 
such  means  he  can  develop  the  divine  element  in  them — that  is  the 
man  that  stands  nearest  to  the  heart  of  God.  Such  men  are  the  true 
benefactors  of  the  world. 

It  is  not  the  trumpeters  that  fight  the  battles  —  though  you 
would  think  so  to  hear  them !  And  it  will  not  be  the  men  that 
make  the  loudest  proclamations,  or  that  utter  them  with  the  most 
eloquent  lips,  that  shall  stand  highest  in  the  world  that  is  to  come. 

I  do  not  expect  to  stand  half  so  high  as  many  an  unheard  name 
will,  to  whom  my  words  bring  some  comfort.  There  is  many  a  timid 
eye  that  looks  up  and  wishes  she  were  as  good  as  I  am.  Dear  mother- 
heart  and  soul !  you  are  a  thousand  times  better.  And  in  the  other 
land  I  shall  not  be  worthy  to  unloose  your  shoe's  latchet.  The  great 
heart  of  goodness  is  in  you,  and  the  great  heart  of  love  ;  and  in  the 
other  life  they  that  love  God  most,  and  they  that  are  the  most  like 
God,  will  be  highest. 

Then  hold  on  !  Give  up  every  thing  but  faith  in  goodness,  faith 
in  love,  and  faith  in  God.     Death  will  be  a  revelation. 

You  do  not  know  how  many  relations  you  have  till  you  are 
in  heaven.  Oh!  when  those  that  are  around  you,  and  that  you  meet 
from  day  to  day  with  little  pleasure,  meet  you  again,  and  they  have 
thrown  off  the  cerements  of  the  body ;  when  you  see  that  in  them 
which  is  good,  and  in  conditions  in  which  counterpoising  evil  is  taken 
away,  and  the  whole  evolutions  of  their  glorious  nature  are  disclosed, 
you  will  never  know  them  !  It  will  be  as  when  one  looks  upon  tlie  banks 
in  January,  and  says,  "  How  dreary  are  these  banks !"  and  then  in 


MOBAL  AFFINITY  THE  TRUE  GROUND  OF  UNITY.      209 

Jane  looks  upon  the  same  landscape,  and  says,  "  It  is  not  the  thing 
that  I  looked  at  before."  It  is  wintei*  here,  and  we  are  frost-bitten,  or 
ice-clad.  It  will  be  summer  there  ;  and  we  shall  be  in  fragrant  leaf 
and  glorious  blossom.  And  when  you  reach  heaven,  you  will  never 
be  lonesome,  or  restrained.  Here  the  necessities  of  earth,  and  the 
proprieties  of  life,  and  the  laws  and  conditions  of  our  lower  nature, 
partition  and  divide  us  ;  and  we  belong  to  each  other  more  than  we 
do  to  all  the  world.  But  in  heaven  all  that  will  be  gone.  Every  soul 
there  will  belong  to  every  soul ;  every  heart  to  every  heart ;  every 
love  to  every  love.  We  shall  be  God's,  and  he  shall  be  ours.  I 
will  he  his  God^  and  he  shall  he  my  son. 

Let  us  not  fail  to  reach  that  place.  Let  us  take  the  royal  road  to 
Love,  that  shall  bring  us  home  to  happiness,  to  manhood,  and  to  im- 
mortality. 


PRAYER    BEFORE    THE    SERMOIf. 

We  draw  near  to  thee,  our  heavenly  Father.  Our  memories  are  laden  with  all  the  instances  of 
thy  goodness  to  us.  We  look  back  to  our  very  childhood,  and  we  seem  to  have  walked  between 
garden  walls.  Yet  the  walls  were  not  of  stone  like  those  of  a  prison,  but  were  garlanded  and 
covered  with  vines  and  pleasant  things  both  for  the  eye  and  for  the  taste.  We  have  often  cast 
ourselves  against  the  rock.  It  has  been  our  own  willfulness  and  our  ovm  folly.  Thy  ways  have 
been  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  thy  paths  peace;  and  that  our. souls  know  right  well.  Thou 
hast  been  graciousi-to  ns,  to  our  mistakes,  to  our  ignorance,  and  to  our  very  sins.  Thou  hast  not 
forgotten  to  be  a  Father  because  we  have  forgotten  to  be  children.  Thou  hast  not  omitted  all  that 
could  make  us  better  and  happier ;  and  all  the  crowded  realm  whose  care  comes  up  before  thee  in- 
cessantly has  not  led  thee  to  forget,  nor  to  be  unfaithful ;  for  thou  canst  not  forget,  and  nothing 
can  be  hid,  such  art  thou  ;  so  wonderful  in  being ;  so  capacious  in  understanding  ;  and  with  such 
ease  canst  thou  do  all  things  ;  persevering  through  ages,  while  worlds  grow  old,  and  men  pass 
away,  though  yet  eternally  young,  without  variableness  or  shadow  of  turning.  Thou,  O  God  I  that 
art  the  only  unwearied  one  of  the  whole  universe— thou  hast  borne  us,  and  our  least  affairs,  in 
continual  memory  and  helpfulness  before  thee.  And  we  make  mention  of  thy  great  goodness 
this  morning.  Although  there  is  more  incomprehensible  than  that  which  we  already  understand, 
and  although  v/e  understand  but  little  of  that  which  we  do  know,  and  although  it  will  be 
opened,  and  made  more  wonderful  iu  contents  and  real  meaning  in  the  other  life,  yet  we  desire 
to  thank  thee,  and  to  manifest  our  gratitude  from  day  to  day  for  all  thy  great  and  marvelous 
works  toward  us. 

And  now,  to  all  thy  past  favors,  give  us  the  sunlight  of  thy  face  to-day.  Give  ns  to  feel  thine 
heart  to-day.  Speak  peace  to  every  one  this  morning— the  forgiveness  of  sins,  and  reconciliation 
through  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Give  to  every  one  the  earnest  of  the  Spirit— the  foretaste  and 
the  foretokens  of  the  heavenly  state.  Grant  that  those  who  have  come  clouded  hither  may  find 
their  sun  shining  bright  now.  May  all  doubts  flee  away  with  the  night,  and  may  every  one  be 
able  with  unvaUed  face  to  look  up  into  the  face  of  God,  and  to  receive  glory  therefrom.  Shine 
into  every  heart,  and  upon  every  conscience,  to  cleanse  each  one.  Shine  upon  our  understand- 
ings, that  they  may  be  full  of  light,  and  not  darkness. 

Wilt  thou  sanctify  to  us  the  dispensations  of  thy  providence.  How  many  are  the  histories 
unknown  to  any  but  him  who  hath  suffered  or  rejoiced  !  But  thou  knowest  them  all.  Accept, 
we  beseech  of  thee,  the  thanks  or  the  supplications  which  are  coming  up  from  so  many  hearts,  and 
sanctify  both  prosperity  and  adversity,  and  command  care  thct  it  be  a  schoolmaster  unto  salvation 
to  each  one  of  us  who  are  appointed  to  labor  in  the  world.  Grant  that  we  may  know  how  to 
Serve  thee  in  our  daily  affections.  Give  strength  to  those  who  this  morning  stand  consciously 
weak,  and  are  ready  to  fall.  Drive  av,ay  pain  and  fear  from  those  that  are  troubled  in  their  minds. 
May  they  give  themselves  no  concern  for  the  future  except  to  seek  the  righteousness  of  the  king- 


210      MOEAL  AFFINITY  THE  TRUE  GROUND  OF  UNITY. 

dom  of  God.  And  may  they  know  that  they  are  safe  who  are  firmly  in  league  with  thee,  and 
whose  trust  and  hope  are  in  thee. 

Grant  that  every  one  of  us  may,  in  all  the  circumstances  of  our  lives,  be  able  to  say  heartily, 
"  Thy  will  be  done."  So  saying,  what  have  we  to  fear  ?  and  what  can  harm  ns  ?  Who  can  be 
against  us  if  God  be  for  ns  ? 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  remember  those  that  are  absent  from  ns  scattered  wide 
abroad  over  all  the  earth — some  upon  the  sea,  and  some  in  distant  lands,  and  others  suffering  in 
the  wilderness.  Be  near  to  all  of  them ;  and  this  day  grant  that  there  may  be  messages  of  mercy 
sent  by  the  Holy  Spirit  to  each  heart — the  consolation  of  faith,  and  uplooking  and  hope  through 
Jesus  Christ.  Draw  near  to  all  that  are  detained  by  sickness  at  home,  and  whose  thoughts  come 
wistfully  this  way.  Wilt  thou,  O  God  I  sanctify  their  sufferings  and  their  deprivations.  Grant, 
O  Lord  1  that  they  may  see  thy  hand  in  these  providences,  and  submit  themselves  to  thy  will.  May 
they  be  comforted  in  their  souls  ;  and  if  their  sickness  in  any  case  is  appointed  unto  death,  O  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  I  be  near  to  them,  and  prepare  them  for  dying,  and  for  translation  into  the  kingdom 
of  thy  glory. 

We  pray  that  thou  wilt  draw  near  to  those  that  are  suffering  in  poverty  and  in  neglect ;  to 
strangers  that  wander  vrithout  helpers ;  to  all  that  are  neglected  ;  to  the  outcast ;  to  those  that 
have  fallen  into  the  snares  of  vice,  and  into  crimes.  We  beseech  of  thee  that  they  may  yet  have 
a  power  from  on  high,  a  gospel  of  hope,  by  which  they  shall  be  saved. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  teach  men  how  more  and  more  perfectly  to  cleanse,  not 
only  themselves,  but  the  ways  of  society,  that  man  shall  not  stumble  at  every  step,  and  f&ll  to  his 
destruction. 

Bless  all  that  labor  for  the  purification  of  morals  and  for  the  recovery  of  the  fallen.  Grant 
that  their  faith  may  not  fail.  May  they  account  this  not  their  occasional  duty,  but  their  life-long 
labor.  And  we  pray  that  they  may  rejoice  in  their  work,  and  take  their  reward  as  they  go  along. 
May  we  remember  that  we  are  the  disciples  of  Him  who  went  about  doing  good ;  and  may  that  be 
our  joy,  as  it  is  our  privilege. 

Sanctify,  we  pray  thee,  all  the  instrumentalities  by  which  we  seek  to  do  thy  work  among 
men.  Bless  the  Sabbath-schools  under  the  care  of  this  church— the  children  and  the  teachers, 
and  their  officers ;  and  grant  that  the  name  of  Christ  may  be  glorified  in  the  ministration  of  these 
schools. 

And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  spread  abroad  the  tidings  of  the  Gospel  throughout  our  land. 
Overrule  every  thing  that  is  disorderly.  Purify  whatever  is  impure.  Strengthen  whatever  is 
weak  and  ready  to  perish.  Grant  that  this  whole  land  may  be  evangelized.  And  may  all  the 
nations  of  the  earth  come  at  last  to  that  rising  light  in  which  is  the  world's  hope.  And  may  all 
the  earth  see  thy  salvation. 

We  ask  it  for  the  Kedeemer's  sake.    Amen. 


XIV. 

THE  VALUE  OF  DEEP  FEELINGS. 


THE  YALUE  OF  DEEP  FEEimGS. 

SUNDAY  MOKNING,  DECEMBER  13,  1868. 


"  Wherefore  I  say  unto  tliee,  Her  sins,  wliicli  are  many,  are  forgiven  ;  for  she 
loved  much  :  but  to  whom  little  is  forgiven,  the  same  loveth  little." — Luke  vii.  47. 


This  whole  scene,  wliicli  I  have  read  in  the  opening  service,  is  one 
of  the  most  touching  and  one  of  the  most  instructive  in  the  whole  his- 
tory of  our  Lord ;  although  I  observe,  as  one  after  another  comes  up 
for  review,  I  am  in  the  habit  of  saying  this  in  respect  to  them  all. 
The  last  one  whose  flavor  lingers  on  the  lip,  seems  the  sweetest  of 
these  remarkable  scenes  of  the  life  of  our  Saviour. 

He  had  been  preaching.  Among  those  that  heard  him,  as  usual, 
were  a  great  many  that  were  outcasts.  They  not  only  were  estee^ned 
to  be  very  wicked  by  the  religious  community,  but  they  were  wicked. 
On  one  of  these  occasions  a  Pharisee,  who  had  listened  to  him  appa- 
rently with  patronizing  kindness,  invited  him  to  dinner.  He  accepted 
the  invitation.  In  the  train  of  his  disciples  entered  with  him  a 
woman  who  had  been,  and  up  to  that  time  probably  was,  a  great 
sinner.  She  had  been  profoundly  stirred  by  his  teaching.  It  had 
reached  the  very  secret  of  her  moral  sense.  She  was  so  absorbed, 
apparently,  in  her  own  thought  and  feeling,  that  she  was  quite  uncon- 
scious of  all  that  went  on  around  her. 

It  was  the  custom  of  Orientals  to  recline  at  dinner.  They  did  not 
lie  parallel  with  the  edge  of  their  tables,  but  on  wide  couches,  nearly 
square  in  form.  Tliey  were  accustomed  to  lie  Avith  their  head  near  to 
the  table,  and  with  their  feet  thrown  away  from  it,  leaning  on  their 
left  arm,  and  serving  themselves  thus  with  their  right.  Consequent- 
ly, to  the  servants,  or  to  any  one  that  approached  them,  the  feet  of 
the  guests  lay  outermost  and  were  most  accessible. 

Tliis  woman,  whose  heart  had  been  touched  by  his  searcliing  dis- 

Lesson  :  Luke  vii.  29-50.    Hymks  (Plymonth  Collection) :  Nos.  364,436,  462. 


212  THE    VALUE   OF  DEEP   FEELIXGS. 

course,  for  a  time  seems  to  have  restrained  herself;  but  finally,  hav- 
ing doubtless  seen  how  those  who  sought  instruction  of  the  Rabbis 
■were  accustomed  to  throw  themselves  down  before  them  and  clasp 
their  foet,  employed  the  little  that  she  knew  about  religious  service 
toward  this  great  Teacher.  She  clasped  his  feet.  He  bore  without 
remark  the  familiarity.  Overcome,  as  people  often  are,  by  the  first 
efibrt  at  religious  service,  she  burst  into  uncontrollable  tears.  And 
seeing  that  they  coursed  down  her  cheek  and  spattered  and  covered 
his  feet,  she  sought,  in  her  helpless  way,  as  it  were  to  repair  the  mis 
chief,  the  inconvenience,  the  annoyance;  and  she  wiped  them  ofl'with 
the  hair  of  her  head. 

As  the  desire  to  do  grows  with  the  doing,  she  took  that  which 
she  had  been  accustomed  to  employ  in  her  bad  vocation  to  perfume 
herself  and  render  herself  grateful  and  attractive,  and  poured  it  out 
upon  the  feet  of  him  whom  now  she  was  beginning  to  look  upon  as  a. 
Saviour. 

To  one  that  beheld  this  from  without,  it  certainly  would  have 
been  a  remarkable  scene.  The  host  noticed  it.  He  seems  to  have 
been  a  moral  and  good  man,  in  many  respects  ;  but  observing  the 
patience  of  Christ  under  this  infliction  of  grateful  love,  he  reasoned 
within  himself  thus  :  "If  this  man  were  what  he  professes  to  be — a 
prophet — he  would  have  insight  into  character.  He  would  know  who 
this  woman  was.     He  would  not  allow  her  to  touch  him.'' 

Tou  will  observe  the  very  striking  instance  here  of  the  difference 
between  natural  feeling  and  conventional  feeling.  To  this  man,  who 
may  be  supposed  to  have  been  a  fairly  good  man,  the  violation  of  a 
conventional  ecclesiastical  arrangement,  which  made  it  improper  for 
a  religions  Jew  to  be  touched  by  an  impure  person,  the  touching  of 
Christ  (that  was  what  he  found  fault  with)  seemed  extraordinary. 
But  to  see  a  woman  broken-hearted,  to  see  her  poimng  out  her  very 
soul,  unconscious  of  every  thing  round  about  her — in  other  words,  this 
most  wonderful  development  of  nature,  and  grace  struggling  with 
natm-e,  did  not  seem  to  have  attracted  his  attention  at  all. 

There  are  thousands  of  people  in  the  world  who  are  just  like  that. 
There  are  thousands  of  persons  who  feel  shocked  at  the  violation  of  a 
canonofthe  chiirch,  but  who  look  with  complacency  upon  the  wicked- 
ness of  a  faculty.  There  are  many  persons  who  would  not  deseci'ate,  by 
wearing  the  hat,  any  cathedral  or  church,  but  who  are  not  troubled  by 
siu  in  their  own  souls — by  pride,  malice,  envy,  or  uncharitableness. 
There  are  multitudes  of  persons  who  think  that  if  a  man  keeps  the 
Sabbath  day,  and  is  sound  in  his  creed,  and  belongs  to  a  respectable 
communion,  and  does  nothing  to  thwart  the  end  and  object  of  church 
association,  he  is  a  Chrbtiau  and  a  hopeful  man,  although  he  may  be 
a  very  worldly  and  a  very  proud  man.     But  if  a  man  is  full  of  love  and 


THE    VALUE  OF  BEEP   FEELINOB.  213 

wentleness,  and  forgives  his  enemies,  and  is  reverent  toward  God,  but 
does  not  belong  to  any  communion,  or  belongs  to  the  wrong  one,  be- 
cause he  has  not  this  external  conformity  with  ecclesiastical  arrange- 
ment they  do  not  perceive  the  beauty,  the  divinity,  that  is  in  his 
soul. ' 

This  woman  was  heart-broken  in  the  presence  of  the  Saviour,  the 
contrast  of  whose  purity  and  truth  threw  such  a  light  of  revelation 
upon  her  own  past  life ;  but'  in  all  her  feelings,  so  strikingly  mani- 
fested, the  Pharisee  saw  nothing.  And  that  such  a  woman  touched 
Christ — that  she  touched  his  feet  even — and  that  he  permitted  it — 
that  was  an  evidence  to  this  man  that  Christ  was  not  the  man  that 
he  had  taken  him  to  be,  or  that  he  had  made  himself  appear  to  be. 
0  poor  blind  human  nature  ! 

Then  came  that  imaginary  instance  by  which  our  Saviour  sought 
to  reveal  to  the  man  the  real  truth  and  merit  of  this  case.  "  I  have 
something  to  say  to  thee."  "Master,  say  on."  Prompt,  as  an  inno- 
cent and  consciously  pure  man  would  be.  "  Of  two  persons  that  owed 
a.  man,  one  five  hundred  pence,  and  another  fifty,  and  neither  having 
any  thing  to  pay,  he  frankly  forgave  both ;  which  of  these  would 
most  love  the  man?"  Said  Simon,  "I  suppose  the  man  that  had 
been  forgiven  most."  "Yes,"  said  the  Master.  "  Which  of  you  two^ 
then,  would  naturally  love  most  ?  You,  a  Pharisee ;  you,  that  pro- 
fess to  have  had  no  debts  of  God  to  pay  or  to  forgive  ;  you,  that  pride- 
yourself  upon  your  purity  and  upon  your  excellence  ;  you,  that  think, 
therefore,  that  you  have  no  need  of  me  or  of  my  Father — you  must 
needs  love  but  little.  But  this  poor  creature,  who  knows  that  she  is 
deeply  indebted  to  divine  mercy,  and  whose  sins  look  her  in  the  face, 
and  blast  all  her  hopes — if  she  is  forgiven,  oh  !  what  love  will  hers 
be!  And  this  «5  her  love.  She  has  sinned  much,  she  is  consciously 
forgiven  much,  and  she  loves  much."     This  was  the  teaching. 

Let  us,  then,  pursue  this  thought  in  some  of  its  practical  relations 
to  ourselves. 

1.  In  the  beginning  it  must  not  be  supposed  that  love  is  to  be  de- 
rived only  from  a  sense  of  benefit  conferred,  and  that  the  conscious 
benefit  of  forgiven  sin  is  the  true  fountain  of  the  highest  love.  For 
love  will  be  in  pi-oportion  to  the  strength  of  the  love-principle  in  the 
subject  of  it.  Nevertheless,  it  is  that  love  which,  in  the  nature  of 
things,  must  precede  all  other  experiences — the  consciousness  of  God's 
goodness  to  us  in  saving  us.  We  do  not  love  God  merely  on  account 
of  what  he  has  done  for  us.  We  begin  to  love  God  by  a  perception 
of  his  great  mercy  to  us.  This  is  the  first  step  in  the  experience, 
but  not  the  Avhole  of  it.  It  then  goes  higher,  and  widens  and  puri- 
fies itself 

2.  Xor  must  we  reason  falsely  upon  the  implications  of  this  pas- 


214  THE    VALUE   OF  DEEP   FEELINGS. 

sage.  For  we  might  say,  "  If  love  is  to  be  in  proportion  to  the 
forgiveness  of  sins,  then  men  shonld  sin  freely  in  order  that  they  may 
love  greatly." 

Paul  had  precisely  the  same  case  presented  to  his  mind  by  an  ob- 
jector. He  had  been  urging  that  God's  grace  was  in  proportion  to 
a  man's  sin;  and  the  objector  said,  "Must  we,  then,  go  on  and  sin 
that  grace  may  abound  ?"  "  No,  God  forbid !"  said  the  apostle. 
"  That  would  be  contrary  to  the  very  nature  of  love.  It  is  impossi- 
ble for  a  man  who  loves  to  go  on  sinning  for  the  sake  of  loving  more, 
or  for  the  sake  of  av inning  more  grace.  The  two  ideas  are  practi- 
cally incompatible  with  each  other." 

Nor  are  we  to  say,  "  As  I  have  not  been  a  great  sinner,  I  am  not 
bound  to  love  much.  Externally  a  man  may  have  been  preserved ; 
but  there  is  no  man  that  lives  who  can  say,  if  he  takes  a  heart-ac- 
count, "  I  have  not  been  a  great  sinner."  And  aside  from  that,  every 
nature,  every  moral  nature,  not  tarnished  by  sin — even  admitting  that 
one  is  not  sinful — should  have  a  tendency  to  love  even  more  than  if  it 
had  been  tarnished. 

3.  But  not  to  speak  longer  upon  these  j)0ssible  perversions  of  this 
truth  here,  I  proceed  further  to  say  that  it  is  a  truth  which  opens  for 
consideration  the  question  of  the  value  of  great  feelings,  deep  feel- 
ings— especially  a  profound  experience  of  personal  sinfulness  incident 
to  a  Christian  life. 

There  is  a  powerful  effect  wrought  upon  a  man's  moral  nature  by 
the  mental  experience  through  which  he  goes.  If  a  man  has  had  such 
a  struggle  Avith  himself  that  he  is  profoundly  impressed  with  the 
might  of  evil  in  him;  if  there  has  been  in  his  experience  a  revelation 
of  the  destructive  tendencies  of  sin;  if  he  has  been  made  to  feel 
thoroughly  that  he  was  utterly  undone  not  only,  but  that  his  ruin 
would  go  on  to  be  eternal;  and  if  he  has  been  made  to  feel  that  he 
was  helpless,  without  divine  aid,  to  rescue  himself,  all  this  experi- 
ence would  tend  to  produce,  most  vividly  and  most  powerfully,  a 
sense  of  God's  grace.  His  sense  of  the  gift  is  to  be  measured  by  this 
experience. 

No  man  that  has  a  low  conception  of  sin  will  ever  have  a  very 
high  conception  of  grace.  God's  rescue  will  seem  great  in  proportion 
to  your  conscious  peril.  How  much  has  been  forgiven  you  will  be 
determined  by  how  mtich  you  consciously  have  been  in  debt.  If  you 
seem  to  yourself  to  have  lived  a  very  good  life,  what  is  there  that 
you  can  thank  God  much  for  ?  If  your  heart  seems  to  you  to  have 
been  bad,  and  your  life,  from  the  issues  of  this  bad  heart,  seems  to 
you  to  be  disfigured  by  sin,  and  God  consciously  has  spared  your 
life,  forgiven  your  sin,  and  recalled  you  to  grace  and  to  holiness,  then 


THE    VALUE   OF  DEEP   FEELINGS.  215 

the  debt  seems  immense  that  yon  owe.     And  gratitude  may  he  sup- 
posed to  he  in  some  proportion  to  the  sense  of  obligation. 

While,  then,  it  does  make  a  great  difference  whether  a  man  has  & 
profound  experience  in  the  matter  of  sinfulness ;  while  a  shallow  feel- 
ing of  one's  own  sinfulness   tends  to  produce  a  shallow  Christian 
character  and  a  shalloAV  Christian  experience,  and  a  profound  sense 
of  personal  sinfulness  tends  to  produce  a  profound  sense  of  obligation 
to  God  ;  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  the  popular  impression  on  this  subject 
is  all  Avrong.     As  a  practical  matter,  almost  all  men  know  that  emi^ 
nent  experiences  have  grown  out  of  profound  convictions  of  sin,  and 
come  up  to  this  point  of  conviction  of  sin,  and  stopped  there.     Men 
begin,  usually,  under  sympathetic  influences,  under  the  indirect  influ- 
ences of  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel,  to  be  serious.     Then  they  grow 
somewhat  thoughtful.     Then  there  is  a  nascent  purpose  in  them  to 
enter  upon  a  better  life.     And  they  begin  to  correct  some  of  their 
sins,  to  conform  to  some  duties,  and  to  seek  places  where  religious 
truth  will  be  made  known  to  them.      And  at  last,  perhaps,  they  put 
themselves    in    communication    with    Christian    teachers,    or   with 
Christian  brethren.     But  they  go  no  further.      They  say  to  you,  "  I 
have  no  such  sense  of  sin  as  others  have.    I  can  not  be  Christ's  unless 
I  am  convicted.     But  I  am  praying  that  God  will  show  my  sins  to 
me.     I  am  praying  that  God  will  convict  me  deeply  and  profoundly." 
So,  round  about  this  jjoint  of  conviction  men  are  lying,  just  as  in 
the  instance  recorded  in  the  gospels  men  were  lying  sick  around  the 
pool  of  Bethesda,  waiting  for  an  angel  to  come  down  and  stir  the 
waters  that  they  might  go  in.     I  have  known  men  to  wait  for  weeks 
and  months  for  a  more  profound  sense  of  their  sinfulness.      The  mis- 
take consists  in  icaitmg.      It  may  be  that  you  have  not  enough  con- 
viction of  sin  :  you  have  enough  to  begin  a  life  of  reformation  with. 
It   may  be  that  the  amount  of  feeling   and  conviction  is  not  yet 
groW'U  to  anything  like  the  degree  that  it  should,  or  that  it  will ;  but 
the  question  is  not  this:  "Should  a  man  have  all  his  conviction  in- 
stantly after  conversion  ?"      The  question  is  simply  this :  "  What  in 
the  beginning  is  conviction  of  sin  good  for  but  to  break  a  man  away 
from  his  sins  ?"   You  have  enough  for  that.    Begin  with  that.  What 
is  it  good  for  but  to  press  a  man  from  sin  toward  a  Christian  life? 
Begin  a  Christian  life.     Then  what  will  happen  ?     In  proportion  as 
a  man  goes  toward  that  which  is  right,  his  conscience  becomes  firm, 
his  moral  sense  becomes  stronger,  and  conviction  of  sin,  like  every 
other  Christian  experience,  will  develop  and  grow.      And  there  are 
thousands  of  men  who  begin  a  Christian  life  with  a  faint  and  feeble 
sense  of  sinfulness,  but  who,  after  years  of  Christian  life,  gradually 
come  to  that ;  so  that  the  sum  total  of  their  experience  amounted  to 
a  profound    conviction    of  personal  unworth  and  sinfulness.      The 


216  TUE    VJLUE   OF  DEEP    FEELIXGS. 

question  is,  Avlictlier  a  man  shall  stop  for  conviction  of  sin  as  a  capi- 
tal, and  the  wliole  of  it  at  once,  before  he  takes  the  first  step  in  a 
•Christian  life;  or  Avhethcr,  having  feeling  enough  to  show  him  "what 
is  wrong,  he  shall  begin  to  break  away  from  it,  and  whether,  having 
enough  feeling  to  show  him  the  right,  he  shall  begin  to  seek  it,  and 
then,  by  prayer,  by  fidelity,  with  the  blessing  of  God  upon  instruc- 
tion, press  forward,  receiving  more  and  more,  day  by  day,  of  ten- 
derness of  conscience,  and  of  sensibility  in  the  interpreting  moral 
sense,  by  which  he  shall  see  what  he  is  and  what  his  life  has  been. 

Let  the  sense  of  sin  grow  as  you  grow.  A  profound  experience 
of  unworth  will  open  more  and  more  upon  you,  as  you  go  on  in  the 
divine  life.  The  magnitude  of  the  debt  that  has  been  forgiven  you, 
will  constitute  a  growing  practical  Christian  experience.  It  is  a  bad 
sign  to  see  men  living  professedly  in  the  Christian  church  who  have 
less  and  less  sensibility  to  sin.  It  is  the  expectation — or  should  be — 
of  every  one  that  enters  uj^on  a  Christian  life,  that  his  sense  of  sin 
will  be  as  the  sense  of  sound  is  in  a  musical  education,  finer  and 
finer  the  more  you  cultivate  the  ear  and  the  more  you  cultivate  the 
voice. 

If  there  are  those,  then,  who  have  been  thinking  of  a  Christian 
life,  and  meaning,  as  soon  as  they  should  feel  that  they  had  cleansed 
themselves  by  profound  conviction  of  sin,  to  enter  upon  it,  let  me 
say,  You  have  mistaken  the  whole  function  of  conviction.  You 
have  not  mistaken  the  fact  that  a  man  should  have  a  profound  con- 
viction of  sin,  but  you  have  mistaken  the  time  and  place  for  it. 

Many  persons  think  they  are  not  Christians  because  they  can  not 
say  that  they  have  had  any  overmastering  experience  of  this  kind. 
Have  you  ever  had  such  a  conviction  of  sin  as  led  you  to  be  discon- 
tented with  your  daily  life  ?  Have  you  ever  experienced  so  much 
dissatisfaction  with  yourself  that  you  felt  that  your  life  must  be  re- 
formed ?  Have  you  ever  had  such  a  sense  of  sin  that  you  felt  that 
God  must  help  you,  and  that  it  was  a  case  which  was  beyond  mere 
human  power  ?  Have  you  ever  had  such  a  sense  of  sin  that  you  felt, 
"  If  I  might,  I  would  begin  to-day  to  live  a  different  life  ?"  Have 
you  ever  had  such  a  sense  of  sin  that  you  made  it  a  part  of  your 
daily  business  to  correct  the  fiiults  and  to  resist  the  temptations  to 
Avhich  you  were  subject  ?  Have  you  ever  had  such  a  sense  of  sin 
that  it  seemed  hateful  to  you  to  do  wrong,  even  when  you  were  doing 
it — more  hateful  then  than  at  any  other  time?  Have  you  ever  had 
such  a  sense  of  the  repellency  of  sin  that  you  earnestly  longed  to  live 
a  pure,  noble.  Christian,  devout,  devoted  life  ?  Have  you  ever  had 
those  impulses  ?  Why  have  you  not  obeyed  them  then  ?  You  are 
like  a  child  that  Avants  to  read  a  book,  but  will  not  learn  his  letters 
because  he  does  not  want  to  touch  a  book  till  he  can  go  off  all  at 


TEE    VALUE   OF  DEEP   FEELmOS.  217 

once.  You  must  learn  your  letters  before  you  can  read.  Many  men 
who  want  to  be  Christians  would  be  glad  if  there  was  a  process  by 
which  they  could  be  taken  and  cleansed,  as  a  filthy  garment  is 
cleansed.  All  white  it  was  :  all  soiled  and  stained  it  is.  It  is  sent 
to  the  dyer,  and  he  puts  it  in  a  vat ;  and  there  it  is  swung  round,  and 
washed,  and  cleansed  ;  and  when  it  comes  out,  it  shall  be  white  as 
fuller's  soap  can  make  it.  And  many  people  would  like  to  have  God's 
work  performed  in  the  same  way.  They  Avould  be  glad  to  have  all 
their  evil  habits,  all  their  passions  and  appetites,  all  their  flagrant 
faults,  corrected  by  God's  lightning  hand.  They  would  like  to  be 
seized  and  plunged  into  the  bath  of  conviction,  as  it  were,  and  swung 
round,  and  cleansed,  so  as  to  be  able  to  say,  when  they  come  out, 
"I  was  a  sinner ;  but  now  I  am  washed,  and  am  clean,  and  white  as 
snow." 

There  is  no  such  experience  as  that.  There  never  will  be  such  an 
experience.  A  man's  heart  is  very  much  like  a  man's  tree.  It  grew 
up  from  some  chance  seed  thrown  out  near  the  house.  It  is  begin- 
ning to  bear ;  and  when  it  bears,  thei-e  is  no  man  or  beast  that  can 
eat  the  sour  stuff  that  grows  on  it.  The  farmer  says,  "  It  is  good 
stock  ;  it  is  tough  ;  it  grows  rampantly  ;  so  I  will  graft  it."  He  cuts 
off  a  few  branches,  and  grafts  them  this  year.  The  other  branches 
continue  to  grow ;  but  he  keeps  down  the  water-shoots  that  are  round 
aboutthe  grafts.  If  they  were  neglected  for  one  summer,  the  new  shoots 
would  overgrow  the  grafts,  and  the  grafts  would  come  to  nothing ; 
but  he  keeps  the  shoots  down,  and  the  grafts  grow,  and  they  make  a 
good  growth  the  first  year.  The  next  year  he  cuts  off  a  few  more  ; 
and  the  third  year  he  cuts  off  the  rest.  Then  the  whole  tree  is 
grafted.  But  the  old  stock  is  in  the  tree  ;  and  if  there  come  out  wa- 
ter-shoots below  the  grafts,  and  they  are  allowed  to  grow,  they  will 
bear  the  old  apple,  and  not  the  new  one.  Therefore  every  thing  must 
be  watched,  and  all  the  shoots  that  do  not  belong  to  the  grafts  must 
be  rubbed  off.  Then  the  natural  power  of  the  tree  shall  run  into  these 
new  grafts,  and  at  last,  after  two,  three,  four,  five  years,  the  tree  will 
have  made  itself  a  new  head. 

Did  you  ever  see  a  man  that  could  take  a  knife  and  cut  off  a 
branch  of  an  old  tree,  and  slap  in  a  scion,  and  have  it  instantly  shoot 
out,  bearing  new  and  precious  apples  ?  And  did  you  ever  see  a  man 
who,  when  he  had  been  going  wrong,  could,  with  the  excision  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  cut  off  a  habit  so  that  it  should  never  bleed,  and  put  in 
a  graft,  and,  without  requiring  any  time  for  growth,  develop  new 
fruit  instantaneously  and  miraculously?  That  is  not  acconliiig  to 
your  observation  ;  nor  is  it  according  to  mine.  That  is  not  tlie  way 
that  God's  Spirit  works.  We  see  that  it  is  not  so.  Men  begin  at  the 
seminal  point,  and  develop  from  that,  and  develop  just  in  proportion 


215  TI^E    VALUE   OF  BEEP   FEELINQS. 

to  the  p-^cnns  of  grace  which  they  haA'e,  and  the  enterprise  which 
they  address  tc  their  new  life. 

I  have^  on  rcy  little  flirm,  a  tree  that  bore  poor  apples,  biit  that 
has  now  been  grafted  with  a  choice  sweet  variety.  A  friend  put  in 
the  grafts  for  me,  and  I  forgot  all  about  them.  It  was  done  last 
year;  and  when  I  went  back  this  year  and  saw  a  rousing  top  to  tlie 
tree,  and  recollected  that  it  had  been  grafted,  I  went  to  examine  it, 
and  found  that  almost  all  the  grafts  had  "  taken,"  but  that  the  old 
tree  had  been  there  too,  and  overgrown  them,  and  that  they  were 
lying  hid  in  the  branches,  so  that  I  would  have  defied  any  man  to  see 
them  at  a  distance  of  ten  feet  off.  And  I  said,  "O  my  professor  of 
religion  !  you  are  just  like  hundreds  that  I  have  in  my  church.  They 
all  have  grafts  in  them  ;  but  the  natural  tree  has  overgrown  the 
grafts,  so  that  you  can  not  find  them." 

So  it  is.  The  experience  of  every  trait,  of  every  element  of  Chris- 
tian life,  is  an  experience  that  begins  small  and  waxes  larger,  and  by 
and  by  becomes  like  a  branch  of  a  tree  in  full  top.  And  that  which 
is  true  of  every  other  feeling  is  true  of  this  one — namely,  conviction 
of  sin. 

If,  then,  you  have  enough  feeling  to  condemn  you,  you  have  enough 
for  yeast.  If  you  have  enough  feeling  to  break  oif  one  sin,  then  you 
have  enough  wind  to  raise  a  sail ;  and  the  less  wind  there  is,  the  more 
sails  does  the  ship-master  raise.  If,  therefore,  you  have  enough  feel- 
ing to  show  you  which  is  the  right  and  which  is  the  wrong  course,  do 
not  wait  till  it  becomes  stronger. '  Feelings  do  not  become  stronger 
by  waiting,  but  by  xcslng. 

I  say  to  every  man  who  is  within  the  hearing  of  my  voice,  If 
there  are  any  of  you  who  have  made  up  your  mind  that  you  will  be 
Christians  when  God  shall  enlighten  your  consciences,  and  shall  en- 
able you  to  judge  between  right  and  wrong,  and  who  are  waiting  for 
such  enlightenment,  you  are  waiting  needlessly.  For  there  is  not  a 
man  in  this  congregation  who  does  not,  in  regard  to  the  great  essen- 
tials of  life,  know  what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong.  In  the  large  de- 
partments of  life  you  are  just  as  sure  of  what  is  right  and  what  is 
wrong  as  you  ever  will  be.  Heaped  up  your  conclusions  have  been. 
You  have  stores  of  conclusions  on  this  subject.  The  trouble  is,  tliat 
you  want  motive  power.  And  there  are  hundreds  of  men  who,  if 
they  would  forsake  tlie  evil  that  they  know,  and  perform  tlio  right 
that  they  know,  would  find  the  first  result  to  be  the  feeling  that  their 
convictions,  their  moral  sense,  had  become  more  powerful  and  sensi- 
tive. 

4.  Very  wicked  men  ought  to  become  very  eminent  and  active 
Christians.  I  do  not  mean  by  this  that  men  who  have  been  brought 
up  religiously,  in  the  "  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord,"  ought 


TEE    VALUE   OF  DEEP   FEELINGS.  219 

not  to  become  eminent  Christians.  Tliey  ought;  though  for  other 
reasons.  But  tliere  are  especial  reasons  why  men  who  have  lived  a 
very  wicked  course  of  life  should  become  eminently  Christian  men. 
Some  of  these  reasons  I  will  develop. 

Usually,  men  who  have  been  very  Avicked  are  men  who  have  very 
strong  natures.  Men  who  have  been  dissipated  are  men  who  have 
had  very  strong  passions  and  apj^etites.  Men  who  have  been  cruel 
are  usually  men  who  have  had  very  strong  governing  faculties,  who 
could  not  bear  to  be  thwarted,  and  who  crushed  all  opposition.  Men 
who  have  been  very  stingy  and  very  grasj)ing  are  usually  men  who 
have  very  strong  commercial  instincts.  Strength  is  characteristic, 
usually,  of  wickedness.  There  is,  however,  a  form  of  wickedness 
called  "  meanness,"  which  does  not  require  strength.  That  is  the 
peculiar  wickedness  of  weakness.  It  is  the  slave's  way,  it  is  the  cow- 
ard's way,  it  is  the  sneak's  way  of  being  wicked.  It  indicates,  not  a 
prolific  nature,  but  a  jnousing  nature.  It  Avorks  down  toward  the  in- 
ferior animals.  I  have  great  hope  of  a  lo icJced  ra^iU. ;  slender  hope  of 
a  meaji  one.  A  wicked  man  may  be  converted,  and  become  a  pre- 
eminent saint.  A  mean  man  ought  to  be  converted  six  or  seven 
times,  one  right  after  the  other,  to  give  him  a  fair  start,  and  put  hira 
on  an  equality  with  a  bold,  wicked  man ! 

Usually  a  wicked  man  is  a  man  of  power  and  audacity,  if  he  is 
very  Avicked  ;  but  where  there  is  great  power  to  do  wrong,  there  is 
gi'eat  power  to  react  from  wrong ;  and  if  a  man  has  been  going  away 
from  God  with  vigor,  that  same  vigor  should  supply  him  with  the 
elements  by  which  to  return.  If  a  man  has  been  holding  his  own 
way  with  amplitude  of  being,  with  stress  of  faculty,  and  with  fruit- 
fulness  of  endeavor,  even  the  ordinary  conception  of  society  would 
say  to  him,  "  If  you  are  going  over  to  the  other  side,  you  ought  to 
labor  as  energetically  as  you  did  on  this."  It  is  a  pitiful  sight  to  see 
a  man  valiant  for  Satan,  and  very  softly  spoken  for  God.  It  is  pitiful 
to  see  a  man  fruitful,  energetic,  from,  day  to  day,  and  constantly  di- 
versifying his  experience  in  wickedness,  but  sterile,  and  close,  and 
formal,  and  proper  when  he  becomes  a  Christian.  That  man  has  not 
entered  into  the  fundamental  conception  of  rejigion  who,  while  he  is 
a  bad  man,  is  at  the  same  time  generous  and  free,  but  who,  Avhen  he 
is  converted,  is  spoiled,  so  that  people  say  of  him,  "I  would  not  give 
a  farthing  for  his  society  noAV.  I  used  to  enjoy  being  with  him,  and 
liked  to  hear  him  talk ;  but  since  he  became  a  Christian,  I  do  not  care 
half  so  much  about  it."  I  have  seen  a  great  many  men  Avho  Avere 
spoiled  by  going  into  the  church ;  but  I  never  saAv  a  man  Avho  Avas 
spoiled  by  coming  into  the  spirit  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  For 
Christ  is  simply  an  inoculation  of  the  Divine  Spirit  in  the  soul ;  and 
all  men  should  make  it  bear  fruit.     It  should  spring  up  in  men,  and 


220  TEE    VALUE   OF  DEEP   FEELINGS. 

under  its  influence  tliey  should  work  vigorously,  and  work  in  right 
directions. 

When,  therefore,  I  see  a  man  that  has  been  a  bold,  wicked  man 
become  a  Christian,  I  watch  him  with  solicitude,  and  say,  "  Is  he 
going  now  to  be  as  lai'ge  in  the  right  as  he  was  in  the  wrong  ? 
There  is  all  that  power;  what  is  he  going  to  do  with  it?  Suppress 
it?  Hold  it  in  check?  Ah  !  your  passions  are  never  doing  their 
work  unless  they  are  like  locomotives  behind  a  train.  Your  moral 
sentiments  want  energizing,  and  the  function  of  your  passions  is  to  go 
behind  conscience  and  love,  and  make  them  jjowerful  and  fruitful. 
And  when  a  man  has  been  a  wicked  man,  and  you  convert  him,  you 
expect  him  to  be  as  good  as  he  was  bad ;  and  the  expectation  is  a 
reasonable  one. 

Bad  men  also  are  usually  acquainted  with  human  life.  They 
know  the  dispositions  of  their  fellow-men  ;  and  whatever  knowledge 
there  is  of' bad  men  they  have.  And  such  men  are  bound  to  conse- 
crate their  knowledge,  and  to  bring  it  into  the  service  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  who  has  forgiven  them,  and  renewed  their  life,  if  they 
are  born  again.  No  man  ought  to  be  so  glad  to  pluck  men  out 
of  the  burning  as  those  men  who  have  been  themselves  brands  in  the 
burning,  and  have  been  rescued.  If  a  man  has  been  rescued  from 
drunkenness,  he  ought  to  take  a  special  interest  in  those  who 
are  in  that  burning  realm.  If  a  man  has  been  a  gambler,  and  is 
converted  from  his  wicked  way,  that  ought  to  be  a  sphere  in  which 
he  feels  peculiarly  called  to  labor.  If  a  man  has  been  a  dissipated 
man,  he,  more  than  all  others,  ought  to  feel  that  he  is  an  apostle  to 
the  Gentiles  iu  that  regard.  If  a  man  has  from  his  youth  gone  step 
by  step  down  toward  wickedness,  when  he  is  converted  he  ought  not 
to  be  ashamed  of  his  past  life  in  such  a  way  that  he  will  not  use  it 
for  the  good  of  others.  I  have  known  persons  who,  having  gone 
through  much  wickedness,  did  not  like  to  have  it  thrown  up  to  them. 
There  is  one  side  on  which  it  is  an  amiable  experience,  and  there  is 
another  side  on  which  it  is  not.  If  you  look  back  upon  your  own 
past  course,  you  see  that  there  are  tens  of  thousands  who  are  going 
in  the  same  way  ;  and  God  calls  you,  by  that  experience,  sanctified, 
and  brought  to  tlie  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  to  go  after  them.  You  are  an 
apostle  ordained  of  God  to  those  who  are  in  the  same  peril  tliat  once 
you  were  in,  and  that  came  near  wrecking  your  soul.  There  are 
fleets  tliat  are  running  toward  wreck  ;  and  who  shall  save  them  but 
you  ? 

I  have  known  men  who  thought  the  object  of  conversion  Avas  to 
clean  them,  as  a  garment  is  cleaned,  and  that  when  they  Avere  con- 
verted they  were  to  be  hung  up  in  the  Lord's  wardrobe,  the  door 
of  which  was  to  be  shut,  so  that  no  dust  could  get  at  them.      A  coat 


TEE    VALUE   OF  DEEP   FEELINGS.  221 

that  is  not  used  the  moths  cat ;  and  a  Christian  who  is  hung  up  so  that 
he  shall  not  be  tempted — the  moths  eat  him ;  and  they  have  poor  food 
at  that ! 

When  a  man  is  called  out  of  a  worldly  and  a  wicked  life  into  the 
service  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  he  is  not  to  forswear  his  old  com- 
pany ;  he  is  not  to  forsake  his  acquaintances ;  he  is  not  to  say,  '*  That 
time  of  my  life  I  can  not  bear  to  look  upon."  God  calls  you  to  be  a 
workman  in  the  respects  in  which  you  are  best  educated,  and  in 
which  you  have  the  most  vigor. 

There  is  also  a  sense  of  divine  goodness  that  ought  to  go  with 
cases  of  conversions  of  bad  men,  and  that  ought  to  be  specially 
affecting  and  influential.  When  a  man  looks  with  an  enlightened 
conscience  and  a  glorified  understanding  along  his  past  life,  if  he  has 
been  a  very  wicked  man,  how  wonderful  to  him  must  seem  the  divine 
goodness !  Because  when  men  are  wicked,  heady,  obstinate,  and 
under  the  full  impetus  of  sin,  they  do  not  C07isider.  That  is  one 
of  the  peculiar  traits  of  wickedness.  "  My  people  doth  not  con- 
sider." They  do  not  weigh  their  moral  conduct.  If  a  man  has 
been  snatched  as  a  brand  from  the  burning,  how  appropriate,  how 
philosophically  wise  it  is  that  that  man  should  go  back  and  see 
through  Avhat  perils  he  has  passed,  and  who  shielded  his  head; 
what  imminent  dangers  there  were,  and  who  rescued  him  from  them  ; 
who  lifted  his  feet  from  the  snare  ;  what  precipices  there  were,  down 
which  if  he  had  fallen  he  would  have  been  dashed  to  pieces,  and 
who  plucked  him  away  from  those  precipices.  Are  there  not  men  who 
in  many  memoi-ably  notable  instances,  have  been  saved  from  ship- 
wreck, disgrace,  and  ruin  ?  If  you  had  been  found  out,  if  you 
had  been  exposed,  you  would  have  been  destroyed  years  ago,  and  the 
grave  would  have  closed  over  you.  How  many  men  are  there 
who  owe  their  life  to  God's  kind  providence,  their  respectability  to 
God's  sparing  mercy ;  and  at  last  when  they  ai'e  converted,  oh  !  what 
sparing  mercy,  oh  !  what  saving  grace,  would  they  see  themselves  to 
be  indebted  for,  if  they  would  be  true  to  their  own  actual  life- 
experience  !  Shall  not  a  man,  all  of  whose  life  in  the  past  rises  up 
before  him,  so  that  on  one  side  lie  sees  monuments  of  wickedness,  and 
on  the  other  side  monuments  tliat  testify  of  the  amazing  grace,  good- 
ness and  kindness  of  God — sliall  not  such  a  man  say,  "In  proportion 
as  I  have  been  a  sinner  an  1  liiive  been  forgiven,  must  I  now  love  : 
much  I  have  been  forgiven  ;  niucli  I  love." 

The  reason  why  many  who  have  been  mi!2:hty  in  wickedness  full 
back  nfter  tlieir  reformation,  is  that,  liavin'jf  been  impiMuous  in 
life,  and  thus  having  succeeded  in  wickedness,  they  attempt  a 
mild  gradualism  in  the  life  upon  wliicli  they  enter.  Tliere  is  nothing 
that  a  man  needs  to  break  off  so  absolutely  from  as  that  in  which  he 


222  THE  yj^lue  of  deep  feelings. 

has  been  thoroughly  Avorldly  and  thoroiighly  wicked.  Tliere  is 
no  place  in  a  man's  whole  life  where  he  needs  to  be  so  abrupt, 
so  peremptory,  as  in  breaking  off  from  wickedness;  and  tliere  is 
no  place  where  impetus  should  be  such  a  means  of  grace  as  in 
attempting  to  live  a  right  life.  If  there  is  any  body  that  may  be  mild 
and  quiet  and  gentle,  it  is  tlie  person  who  has  not  been  betrayed 
into  great  wickedness.  If  there  are  those  here  who  are  conscious  that 
they  are  very  wicked  before   God,  no  mild  course  will  do  for  you. 

I  see  a  great  many  persons  who  try  to  serve  God  softly.  The 
devil  puts  excuses  into  their  mouths  like  these  :  "  I  ought  not  to 
meddle  Avith  sacred  things.  I  ought  not  to  put  on  airs  in  religion, 
or  give  people  reason  to  suppose  that  I  do."  And  under  these 
gnises  they  do  but  little,  and  very  soon  wither,  and  go  back  to  their 
old  state.  Now,  no  matter  how  wicked  you  have  been,  make  haste 
to  redeem  the  hours  that  God  gives  you,  when  you  are  converted,  to 
serve  him  with  energy  and  faithfulness.  Oh !  how  unmanly  and  dis- 
honorable it  is  that  a  great  sinner  should  accept  grace,  and  then  be  a 
dwarf  in  God's  work,  when  he  has  been  a  giant  in  the  work  of  sin  ! 
How  peculiarly  mean  it  is,  how  ungrateful  it  is,  that  a  man  should 
have  served  the  world  with  vigor,  and  great  success,  and  shown 
himself  to  be  a  mastei'-workman  in  wickedness,  but  that,  when 
he  becomes  a  Christian,  he  shoiild  begin  to  plead  caution,  and  over- 
sensitiveness  of  conscience,  and  every  other  excuse  by  which  he  may 
be  dwarfed,  and  become  unfruitful. 

If,  therefore,  within  the  hearing  of  my  A'oice,  there  are  those  who 
are  thinking  abont  a  Christian  life,  I  open  the  door  of  the  church  to 
you — but  on  this  condition:  come  hi  with  aU  your  might!  If  you 
have  been  a  swearing  man,  your  lips  must  not  be  dumb  now  in  the 
praise  of  that  God  whom  you  have  been  blaspheming  all  your  life. 
Have  you,  in  all  the  ports  of  the  world,  known  all  iniquity  ?  Then 
wherever  you  go  now,  you  ai'e,  to  be  sure,  to " eschew  evil;"  but  are 
you  not  going  to  be  a  witness  for  good  ?  Ten  thousand  men  have 
known  you  to  be  a  wicked  man  ;  and  is  there  to  be  no  signal  by 
which  they  shall  know  that  you  have  abandoned  sin  and  left  the  do- 
minion of  Satan  ?  It  is  bad  enough  for  a  man  to  hang  out  a  pii'atical 
flaix  ;  but  when  he  has  heartily  repented,  and  come  back  to  allegiance, 
and  is  engaged  in  lawful  commerce,  shall  he  be  ashamed  to  hoist  the 
flac  of  his  own  country  and  carry  it  ?  And  are  you  ashamed  of  the 
colors  of  him  who  is  your  salvation  ?  Are  you  ashamed  to  speak  for 
Christ — to  wrestle  with  men,  and  plead  with  them,  in  his  behalf? 
Ought  you  not,  in  all  places,  and  in  all  company,  freely,  boldly,  and 
manfully  to  say,  "  Christ  is  my  Master.  Once  the  devil  was,  and  all 
men  know  it:  now  Christ  is,  and  I  mean  that  all  men  shall  know 
it,  by  the  grace  of  God."     There  are  a  great  many  men  who  have 


TEE    VALUE   OF  DEEP   FEELINGS.  223 

been  brought  out  of  unbelief;  there  are  many  who  have  been  brought 
out  of  atheism  and  skepticism ;  but  nobody  would  know  it  fi-om  any 
thing  that  they  say.  They  shut  it  up  as  a  secret  in  their  bosoms. 
Ah  !   that  is  not  fair. 

If  you  were  sick,  and  your  case  had  been  given  over  by  all  the 
physicians,  and  a  stranger  should  come  to  your  town,  and  should  ex- 
amine into  your  difficulty,  and  should  say,  "It  is  a  struggle  with 
death  itself,  but  I  am  in  possession  of  knowledge  by  which  I  think  I 
can  heal  you ;"  and  he  should  never  leave  you  day  nor  night,  but  should 
cling  to  you  through  weeks  and  weeks,  and  at  last  raise  you  to  health, 
would  it  not  be  contemptibly  mean  if  you  should  be  ashamed  to  ac- 
knowledge him  to  be  your  physician,  and  to  testify  to  what  he  had 
done  for  you  ?  If  I  was  that  physician,  would  I  not  have  a  right  to 
have  my  name  and  my  skill  made  known  by  you  ? 

Everywhere  there  are  thousands  of  men  who  seem  ashamed  of 
nothing  so  much  as  to  mention  that  name  that  is  their  hope  ;  that 
name  that  hovered  over  them,  though  they  did  not  know  it,  in  all 
the  days  of  their  wickednesss  ;  that  name  in  which  they  secretly  trust, 
but  which  they  dare  not  avow  ;  that  name  which  is  to  save  them  in 
death ;  that  name  before  which  all  eternity  shall  thunder  praises  ;  and 
that  name  Avhich,  above  all  others,  they  should  speak. 

I  know  that  I  appeal  to  the  sense  of  manliness  in  every  one  of 
your  bosoms.  There  is  not  a  man  here  who  does  not  say,  "  If  a  man 
has  been  a  sinner,  and  has  become  a  Christian,  he  ought  to  let  it  be 
known."  Then  what  is  the  reason  you  are  hiding  it?  There  are 
some  here  among  you  to-day  who  have  sometimes  thought  that 
they  Avere  Christians  ;  and  yet  they  will  not  come  into  the  church. 
No  ;  they  are  going  to  have  religion  like  a  dark-lantern,  and  carry  it 
in  their  pocket,  where  nobody  but  themselves  can  get  any  good  from 
it.  May  God  put  out  your  dark-lantern  for  you  !  "When  a  man  be- 
comes a  Christian,  he  is  a  light,  not  for  his  own  feet  alone,  but  to 
make  the  path  plain,  so  that  those  who  are  on  the  road  may  see  the  right 
way,  and  follow  after.  Away  with  your  hopes  that  are  locked  up  in 
the  cupboard  of  your  soul!  Away  with  tliat  extraordinary  delicacy 
that  leads  you  to  have  silent  thoughts  an<l  secret  purposes  wliich 
you  do  not  disclose  because  you  do  not  want  to  make  a  profession 
till  you  know  whether  you  are  going  to  hold  out !  Away  with  that 
super-refinement  by. wliich  a  man  says,  "  When  I  have  lived  thirty  or 
forty  years,  I  shall  have  established  my  character  for  godliness  by  my 
life.  I  want  men  to  see  that  I  am  a  Christian,  and  not  to  hear  me  say 
tha*  I  am  one  !"  Why  do  you  not  do  both — let  them  see  tliat  you 
are  a  Cliristian,  and  hear  you  say  it  ?  You  are  not  afraid  of  confes- 
sing any  thing  else,  as  you  are  afraid  of  confessing  that  you  are  a 
Christian.      You  are  not  afraid  to  have  men  know  that  you  ai'e  pros- 


224  THE    VALUE   OF  DEEP   FEELINGS. 

perous.  If  you  have  been  sick,  and  you  are  better,  you  are  not  afraid 
to  say,  "  I  am  better." 

A  man,  from  one  cause  and  another,  has  become  diseased,  and  is 
run  down,  and  every  body  has  noticed  it,  and  has  pitied  him  ;  and 
at  last,  having  tried  a  thousand  things  in  vain,  he  says,  "  I  am  going 
to  drink  Missisquoi  water;  and  he  goes  to  the  springs,  and  spends 
the  whole  summer,  and  drinks  the  water,  and  his  health  improves, 
and  the  color  returns  to  his  cheek,  and  by  the  autumn  he  is  quite 
strong.  And  suppose,  on  his  way  home,  he  should  say,  "When  my 
friends  meet  me,  and  say,  '  How  are  you  ? '  I  am  going  to  say,  '  Not 
very  well.'  I  am  not  going  to  tell  any  body  that  I  am  getting 
well,  I  am  going  to  let  them  see  that  I  am  getting  well."  Would 
that  be  natural?  Under  such  circumstances,  when  your  friends  met 
you,  and  said,  "  Why,  old  fellow  !  I  am  glad  to  see  you  looking  so 
rosy,"  would  you  not  say,  "  I  am  better.  I  have  not  been  so  strong 
in  many  a  day.  Thank  God,  I  am  going  to  get  well.  I  begin  to  feel 
like  myself  again"  ?  That  is  what  you  would  say  about  your  bodily 
health. 

And  where  God  has  done  every  thing  for  your  soul ;  when  you  have 
drunk,  not  the  water  of  medicinal  springs,  but  the  "water  of  life," 
and  you  are  being  healed  all  through,  are  you  not  the  very  man  that 
ought  to  speak  out  and  say,  "  God  is  curing  me,  I  feel  better.  I  am 
not  well  yet,  but  I  am  going  to  get  well "  ?  That  is  the  profession 
which  a  man  makes  when  he  joins  the  church — "  I  am  better,"  Not 
"  I  am  ^oof?,"  but,  "  I  am  better,  and  I  am  going  to  get  well," 

Some  of  you  ask  me,  "  Do  you  think  that  a  man  who  has  been 
wicked  ought  to  rush  right  into  the  administration  of  holy  things  ? 
Is  wickedness  so  harmless  that  when  a  man  has  wallowed  in  it  for 
years,  and  then  come  out  of  it,  he  is  as  fit  to  be  a  preacher,  a  teacher, 
and  what  not,  as  if  he  had  been  religious  from  his  childhood  up  ?" 
Oh !  no.  I  do  not  say  that  because  a  man  has  entered  upon  a  Christian 
life,  he  is  ready  to  attempt  every  thing  in  the  administration  of  a 
Christian  life.  A  man  may  not  himself  be  fit  for  a  physician  because 
he  has  been  cured  ;  but  he  may  point  men  to  the  physician  that 'cured 
him.  It  does  not  follow  because  a  man  has  been  relieved  from  disease, 
that  he  is  to  be  a  general  medical  practitioner.  It  does  not  follow, 
because  a  man  is  converted,  that  he  is  to  be  a  minister,  or  that  he 
ought  to  be  sent  out  as  a  public  teacher.  It  is  the  nnture  of  vice  or 
crime  that  it  takes  away  moral  stamina  ;  that  it  destroys  the  fibre  of  a 
man's  better  parts ;  and  wicked  men,  when  convei'ted,  nre  not,  except 
in  extraordinary  cases,  qualified  to  be  guides  in  matters  of  conscience 
to  other  people,  because  their  own  consciences  are  blunted. 

But  that  does  not  touch  the  question  that  there  are  yet  left  other 
spheres  where  you  can  do  very  great  good.     I  can,  as  a  reformed 


THE    VALUE   OF  DEEP    FEELINGS.  225 

drunkard,  go  down  and  plead  witli  drunkards,  altliongh  I  may  not  be 
a  proper  teacher  for  temperate  men  that  never  were  intemperate.  I, 
as  a  reformed  thief,  may  plead  witli  men  who  are  tempted  with  dis- 
lionesties,  although  I  may  not  he  a  proper  moral  teacher  in  college, 
or  seminary,  or  family,  in  respect  to  all  verities.  It  does  not  follow 
that  you  are  to  become  a  teacher  of  every  thing  because  God  has  res- 
cued your  soul ;  but  you  may  become  a  witness  of  that  Avhich  lie  has 
done  for  you,  and  a  worker  with  him  in  the  rescue  of  those  that  are 
imiDeriled  as  you  were. 

5.  Men  who  have  sinned,  not  by  their  passions  but  by  their  hio-h- 
er  foculties,  if  the}^  would  be  true  Christians,  must  have  just  the  same 
spiritual  momentum — though  for  different  reasons— as  those  that  have 
sinned  by  their  lower  faculties. 

There  are  many  men  who  have  been  dreamers  in  life.  It  is  as  if  a 
man  having  a  farm  should  let  it  grow  up  to  thorns  and  thistles  and 
weeds.  There  are  many  men  who  have  been  spiritually  self-indulgent 
all  their  lives.  They  had  no  great  impulse  to  abnormal  conduct; 
they  had  no  inordinate  passions  ;  they  were  surrounded  by  institu- 
tions, household  and  social  customs  which  held  them  up ;  and  they 
lived  simply  to  make  themselves  happy.  There  are  many  who  have 
lived  fastidious  lives.  Instead  of  conscience  they  have  had  taste. 
They  have  valued  things  in  proportion  as  they  conformed  to  the  law 
of  beauty,  and  not  in  proportion  as  they  conformed  to  tlie  law  of 
purity  or  love  of  goodness.  Many  have  had  a  cautious  and  supersti- 
tious conscience,  and  they  have  lived  a  life  that  was  barren — not 
fruitful,  not  useful.  Thousands  of  men  are  like  a  wax  candle  in  a 
solitary  room,  which  some  one  has  kindled  and  placed  there.  It 
spends  its  whole  life  in  burning  itself  out,  and  does  good  to  none. 
Many  a  man  commences  and  burns  the  wick  of  life,  using  it  up  and 
throwing  his  light  out  upon  nobody.  He  is  a  light  to  himself — that 
is  all. 

Now,  I  say  that  when  such  men,  who  have  been  tempted,  and  have 
given  way  to  outrageous  transgressions,  to  overt  sins,  are  conveiled, 
they  ought  to  enter  upon  the  Christian  life  with  a  spiritual  momen- 
tum in  proportion  to  the  goodness  of  God  in  delivering  them  from 
these  unconsidered  and  imminently  dangerous  tendencies  to  sin. 

Although  the  sins  of  our  passions  are  more  obvious,  and  in  some 
sense  more  disorganizing  than  the  sins  of  our  higher  fiiculties,  yet  the 
sins  of  the  higher  faculties  are  more  dangerous,  because  they  are  not 
suspected — because  they  do  their  work  secretly  and  silently,  with 
out  being  watclied  or  medicated.  Whichever  place  a  man  starts  from, 
let  him  begin  the  Christian  life  with  this  conception :  that  it  is  a  life 
of  higher  activity — not  of  quiescence  ;  that  it  is  a  life  of  rebound  from 
wickedness,  within  and  without;  that  it  is  a  life  which  is  to  grow 


226  THE    VALUE    OF  BEET    FEELIXGS. 

more  fruitful  by  tlie  breaking  in  of  divine  summer  upon  tlie  human 
soul. 

6.  Let  every  man  "svlio  is  going  to  begin  a  Christian  life  j^ursue 
the  same  course  that  she  pursued  -whose  name  has  been  made  memor- 
able, and  wliose  soul  this  day  chants  before  her  Beloved  in  heaven — 
for  she  is  one  of  those  of  whom  Christ  says,  "The  publicans  and  the 
harlots  go  into  the  kingdom  of  God  before  you,"  Pharisees.  Let 
every  man  whose  ear  has  been  reached  by  the  truth,  and  whose  con- 
science and  heart  have  been  touched  by  the  Sjjirit  of  God,  reform  as 
she  reformed.  How  Avas  that  ?  Did  she — this  child  of  a  guilty  life 
— after  hearing  the  Master,  go  away  to  the  silence  of  her  own  cham- 
ber, and  say,  "I  will  return  to  virtue"?  N"o.  Without  asking  per- 
mission, with  the  intrusiveness  of  a  heart  bent  on  piirity,  she  min- 
gled herself  at  once  with  the  train  of  Christ's  disciples ;  and,  all 
unasked,  and  unwanted  too,  she  pressed  through  the  portals  of  the 
proud  man's  dwelling  as  Christ  her  Lord  sat  at  meat ;  and,  Avhile 
filled  with  a  sense  of  her  own  deep  need,  stood  waiting,  until  at  last, 
surcharged,  she  broke  forth  in  an  anguish  of  tears.  When  she  came 
to  Christ  first,  she  came  to  the  right  one;  and  going  to  him,  it  was 
not  to  hlm^  nor  to  his  heart,  but  to  his  feet.  Come  ye  to  Christ. 
Come  to  i\\G  feet  of  Christ. 

And  O  friend !  do  as  she  did  ;  for  when  she  came,  she  took  the 
precious  ointment,  by  which  she  had  made  herself  beautiful  for  sin — 
the  instrument  of  her  transgression — and  consecrated  it  to  holy  uses, 
pouring  it  upon  the  feet  of  the  Beloved,  worshipping  him  and  weep- 
ing as  she  worshiped.  Bring  whatever  you  have  used  before,  in  the 
service  of  sin,  and  at  the  feet  of  the  Beloved  bow  down  yourselves, 
with  holy  desires,  and  consecrate  your  powers,  within  and  without, 
to  the  service  of  Him  who  loved  you  and  redeemed  you  that  he  might 
present  you  spotless  before  the  throne  of  his  Father,  and  your  Father. 
Come  to  Jesus. 


PRAYER    BEFORE    THE    SERMOI^. 

We  thank  thee,  Almighty  God,  for  that  open  way,  new  and  living — no  longer  the  way  of  sa- 
crifice, no  longer  the  way  of  law  ;  but  the  way  of  life,  the  way  which  we  tread  by  holy  thoughts, 
the  way  in  which  our  footsteps  are  as  so  many  pulsations  of  our  heart,  by  love,  by  faith,  by 
hope,  by  joy.  We  tread  that  sacred  way,  seeking  thee— not  duty,  but  our  love  in  thee.  We 
thank  thee  that  thou  hast  made  the  way  plain  in  thy  word,  but  art  making  it  plainer  in  our  expe- 
rience, sending  forth  the  Holy  Ghost,  enlightening  the  understanding,  illumining  the  heart,  and 
raising  up  witnesses  on  every  hand— joyful  witnesses— who  testify  what  the  Lord  hath  done  for 
them.  We  thank  thee  that  there  are  so  many  who  have  been  brought  out  of  darkness  into  light ; 
Who  once  wept,  and  now  sing  ;  who  once  were  in  chains,  and  now  are  free  ;  who  once  were  the 
servants  of  the  devil,  and  now  are  dear  sons  of  the  Lord  their  God.    We  thank  thee  that  there 


THE    VALUE   OF  DEEP    FEELINGS.  227 

are  so  many  of  them  that  arc  in  communion  ;  that  have  found  each  other  out ;  that  arc  of  the 
same  mind,  and  are  seeking  the  same  things  below,  and  the  same  joj-ful  home  above  ;  and  that 
are  wallving  together,  so  that  the  very  desert  sings  ;  so  that  all  the  way  they  cheer  each  other, 
and  comlbrt  each  other,  bearing  each  other's  burdens,  and  seeking  thus  to  please  God  in  the  care 
of  each  other. 

We  thank  thee,  0  Lord  1  that  our  lines  have  fallen  to  us  in  such  pleasant  places,  and  that 
these  joys  are  vouchsafed  to  us.  How  is  thy  table  spread  for  us  week  by  week !  How  dost  thou 
give  us  of  the  very  water  of  life !  We  are  feeling  more  and  more,  as  the  time  goes  on,  the  truth 
that  there  is  a  bread  which  cures  hunger,  and  that  there  is  a  water  which  cures  thirst.  Oh  !  that 
we  might  partake  freely  !  Oh  !  that  we  might  find  thee  in  communion  with  thee,  and  that  compared 
with  the  full  life  which  thou  dost  inspire  in  thine  own,  all  other  wants  sink  away,  and  all  other 
joys  only  contribute  to  and  become  the  servants  of  joys  which  are  in  Christ  Jesus. 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  this  morning,  such  an  illumination  to  thy  people,  such  a  joy  and  liberty 
of  heaven,  that  they  may  rise  up  round  about  thee.  Yea,  may  there  be  found  many  a  singing 
heart,  this  morning,  clasping  thy  feet,  and  with  all  tokens  of  gladness  owning  thee,  appropriating 
thee,  and  rejoicing  to  be  honored  of  thee,  and  to  be  strengthened  by  thee. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thy  name  may  be  a  name  that  shall  stir  our  very  souls.  May  it 
awake  in  us  thoughts  of  thy  long  faithfulness  ;  of  many,  many  hours  radiant  with  joy  ;  of  strug- 
gles victoriously  issued  through  thy  grace.  May  we  be  carried,  by  the  thought  of  thy  faithfulness, 
through  all  the  ways  of  life  in  which  we  have  walked  ;  through  perUs  overcome  or  avoided  ; 
through  dangers  vanquished  ;  through  sorrows  overmastered,  and  patience  confirmed  or  strength- 
ened. Grant  that  we  may  see,  all  around  about  us,  as  we  think  of  thee,  the  memorials  of  thy 
mercy  to  us.  May  there  be  no  name  so  dear  as  thine,  no  service  to  us  so  acceptable,  no  honor  so 
bright  and  sensitive,  as  that  with  which  we  serve  thee.  May  it  be  easy  for  us,  and  every  year 
easier,  to  cast  aside  the  sins  and  the  temptations  that  beset  our  path.  And  may  we  feel  that  by 
the  grace  of  God  we  are  growing  and  attaining  toward  that  manhood  which  is  in  Clirist  Jesus. 

Bless,  we  pray  thee,  severally,  all  that  are  in  thy  presence,  and  each  according  to  his  special 
want.  Accept  the  confessions  of  sin  which  are  made.  Accept  the  humiliations  of  heart  which 
thou  dost  behold  before  thee.  Accept  the  faintest  purpose  of  service,  the  slightest  yearnings  to- 
ward love,  the  earliest  breathings  of  love,  the  first  returns  of  conscience,  the  beginnings  of  peti- 
tion, and  all  the  infantile  experiences  of  those  that  have  been  men  in  sin,  and  must  needs  be  bora 
again,  and  become  little  children  in  holiness.  We  beseech  of  thee  that  art  in  overmastering 
power,  and  yet  that  art  the  most  gentle  of  any  that  is,  that  thou  wilt  deal  so  gently  with  them  that 
there  shall  be  no  petitioner  afraid  to  speak  to  thee,  no  suppliant  that  dare  not  look  up  and  behold 
all  the  hope  and  promise  there  is  in  thy  glorious  face.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  there  may 
be  those  who  shall  run  quickly  to  the  side  of  every  one  that  is  distressed  and  ready  to  fall ;  that 
thy  servants  may  recall  God's  grace  to  them ;  that  they  may  remember  the  "  wormwood  " 
and  the  "  gall "  of  their  own  experience,  and  that  they  be  prompt  in  seeking  to  save  those  who  are 
out  of  the  way,  and  are  yearning  again  to  be  restored  to  the  right  path. 

And  we  pray,  O  Lord  our  God !  that  thou  wilt  bless  those  who  are  afar  off,  and  yet  have  some 
thoughts,  at  times,  they  know  not  whence,  that  visit  them — some  experiences  of  better  days ; 
some  heart-chidings  ;  some  prickings  of  conscience.  Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  they  may  have 
no  rest.  Grant  that  they  may  be  condemned  before  the  bar  of  their  own  conscience.  And  may 
they  know  that  if  their  consciences  condemn  them,  God  is  greater,  and  shall  much  more  condemn 
them. 

We  beseech  of  thee,  O  Lord  our  God  !  that  thou  wilt  grant  unto  every  one  in  thy  presence  that 
is  seeking  thee,  whether  afar  off  or  near  at  hand,  the  gracious  tokens  of  thy  mercy  :  and  may 
those  especially  who  would  this  morning  renew  their  covenant  obligations  and  consecrate  them- 
selves afresh,  find  that  thou  art  very  near  and  very  precious. 

Make  it  easy  for  thy  people  to  confess  their  sins.  Make  it  easy  for  them  to  rise  in  exaltation 
of  peace.    Draw  near  to  them.    We  pray  that  thou  wilt  strengthen  every  one  for  the  duty  of  life. 


228  THE    VALUE   OF  DEEP   FEELINGS. 

Th  on  knowcst  better  than  the  sufferer  the  eircninstances  of  sxiffcring.  Thou  knoirest  the  heart- 
needs  and  the  trials.  There  is  no  burden  that  thy  hand  did  not  weigh  before  it  was  placed  upon 
the  unwilling  shoulder.  Thy  yoke — thou  dost  place  it  upon  the  neck,  and  thou  dost  know  it.  All 
things  are  naked  and  open  before  him  with  whom  we  have  to  do.  May  we  come,  therefore, 
boldly  to  the  throne  of  grace,  to  obtain  mercy  and  help  in  time  of  need.  Over  all  their  conscious 
necessities,  in  the  memory  of  every  need  which  visits  them  from  day  to  day  through  the  week, 
muy  they  now,  here,  in  thy  presence,  address  thee,  and  tind  that  thy  promises  are  yea  and  amen. 

Oh !  so  breathe  strength  into  every  one,  and  so  let  the  breath  of  thy  love,  like  the  vrinds  of  sum- 
mer from  the  south,  come,  that  every  single  one  shall  say  spontaneously,  "  Thou  art  he  that  dost 
exceeding  abundantly  more  than  we  asked  or  thought."  Glorify  thy  name  thus  in  the  helpfulness 
which  thou  dost  show  to  thine  own  dear  people. 

Prepare  such  as  are  treading  the  last  years  of  their  life,  or,  it  may  be,  the  last  footsteps  of  this 
year,  for  death.  May  they  not  be  afraid  of  it.  Take  away  the  darkness  that  seems  to  make  the 
gate  of  death  iron.  Give  interpreting  faith  to  the  eyes  of  thy  dear  servants  who  are  drawuig  near, 
that  they  may  see  that  it  is  pearl.  And  grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  no  one  may  be  afraid  of  the  celes- 
tial city,  whose  glorious  walls  are  full  of  precious  stones,  which  is  full  of  joy  and  singing  within, 
and  over  whose  battlements  the  Spirit  and  the  Bride  evermore  are  calling  out  to  us  to  come.  Yes, 
■we  hear.  The  voices  of  our  own  are  there  ;  and  our  little  children  call  us  to  come ;  and  our  dear 
friends  call  us  to  come ;  and  thou  that  dost  redeem  them  art  calling  us  to  come.  Even  so,  Lord 
Jesus,  come  thou  quickly,  and  we  will  come  I 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise.  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Amen. 


XV. 

Works  Meet  foe  Repentae'ce. 


WORKS  MEET  FOR  REPENTANCE. 

SUNDAY  EVENING,  DECEMBER  20,  1868. 


I  SHALL  speak  to  you,  to-niglit,  upon  the  19tli  chapter  of  Acts,  from 
the  8th  to  the  20th  verse;  but  particularly  upon  the  19th  verse: 

"  Many  of  them  also  which  used  curious  arts  brought  their  books 
together,  and  burned  them  before  all  men  :  and  they  counted  the  price 
of  them,  and  found  it  fifty  thousand  pieces  of  silver." 

I  have  read  the  context  as  a  part  of  the  opening  service,  this 
evening. 

It  is  curious  to  observe  Paul's  method  of  preaching — how  he  en 
tered  those  cities  of  Asia  Minor,  and  usually  went  to  work  at  his  own 
trade,  supporting  himself  by  his  own  hands,  not  because,  as  he  said, 
he  did  not  think  himself  worthy  to  receive  support  and  compensation, 
but  because  he  would  not  give  any  body  the  opportunity  of  saying 
that  he  was  preaching  the  Gospel  for  the  sake  of  the  remuneration 
which  he  drew.  He  was  accustomed,  as  there  were  no  churches,  and 
as  even  synagogues  were  shut  against  him,  (sometimes,  though  they 
were  usually  open  to  all  comers,)  or  did  not  exist  everywhere,  to  go 
into  the  market  places,  into  the  forum,  or  into  schools.  And  they  did 
not  use  that  term  "  school"  as  we  do,  signifying  a  building,  with  rooms 
set  apart,  and  apparatus  for  teaching ;  but  rather  as  some  public  square 
where  a  philosopher,  many  philosophers  frequently,  resorted ;  each 
one  taking  his  corner  oi  his  walking-place,  and  gathering  his  disci- 
ples about  him,  half  a  score  or  more  according  to  his  popularity, 
either  stood  and  conversed,  or  walked  up  and  down  and  discoursed. 
This  was  the  style  of  discussion  in  old  Grecian  times.  It  was  not 
the  habit  of  the  Jews — it  was  of  the  Greeks ;  where  our  scene  is 
had.  Philosophical  opinions  then  were  a  man's  stock  in  trade ; 
and  they  were  held  very  much  as  games  of  skill  are  held  by  their 
])rofessors  in  our  day.  I  know  of  no  analogy  that  is  more  exactly 
like   the   schools  of  that   philosophy.      One  philosopher  undertook 

LK880N :  Acts  xix.  8-20.    Htmxs  (Plymouth  Collection)  :  Nos.  215.  764. 1254. 


230  WOBKS  MEET   FOB   REPENTANCE. 

to  give  the  cosmogony  in  one  way,  and  another  in  another  way. 
Eacli  one  had  his  reputation  for  a  peculiar  ingenuity,  and  each  his 
own  ground  on  which  he  stood  and  defied  all  comers.  So  that 
philosophers  stood  very  much  in  relation  to  the  Greek  mind  as 
do  the  popular  masters  to  billiard  playing  in  New-York.  The  phi- 
losophers Avere  Carmes,  and  Rudolphs,  and  Dions,  and  what  not . 
and  they  held  their  cue,  and  were  willing  to  take  a  challenge  from 
any  body  that  came  along. 

In  strict  accordance  with  this  popular  national  method,  when 
Paul  came  to  Ephesus,  he  went  into  the  school — into  the  public 
thoroughfare  ;  and  Avhen  he  found  that  the  people  who  were  accus- 
tomed to  gather  there  on  the  whole  grew  bitter,  and  made  it  diffi- 
cult or  unprofitable  to  teach,  he  separated  from  his  disciples.  And  it 
is  recorded  that  he  went  into  the  school  of  one  Tyrannus,  and  there 
took  a  larger  liberty,  and  discussed  truth. 

"  When  divers  were  hardened,  and  believed  not,  but  spake  evil  of 
that  way  before  the  multitude,  he  departed  from  them,  and  separated 
the  disciples,  disputing  daily  in  the  school  of  one  Tyrannus" — a  bad 
r.ame  to  our  ears,  though  pi'obably  a  very  liberal  man.  This  was  not 
the  only  time  that  a  man,  in  order  to  discuss  religion  freely,  has  had 
to  go  out  of  the  church  into  the  world  !  Many  a  man  has  found  a 
larger  toleration  and  a  wider  liberty  outside  of  churches  than  he 
could  get  inside  of  them. 

"  This  continued  for  the  space  of  two  years" — which  was  a  long 
settlement  for  Paul.  Not  only  did  he  teach,  but  he  wrought 
miracles,  which  were  very  emphatic  and  unquestionable — at  any  rate 
unquestioned.  It  seems  that  he  had  that  power  which  belonged  to 
his  Master,  and  to  all  the  apostles  that  consorted  with  Christ  during 
this  life — namely,  the  power  of  casting  out  evil  spirits.  He  cast 
them  out  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 

Then  comes  that  (if  it  were  not  in  such  a  sacred  place)  most 
ludici'ous  picture  of  the  attempt  of  "  certain  of  the  vagabond  Jews" 
to  exorcise  evil  spirits.  The  point  where  they  were  caught  was  this. 
In  antiquity  there  was  an  imagination  or  a  profound  conviction  that 
certain  words  and  certain  formulas  of  words  had  a  mystic  power. 
The  Jews  never  pronounced  the  name  "  Jehovah."  They  always 
substituted  a  pseudonym.  When  in  reading  they  came  to  the  letters 
that  spell  "  Jehovah,"  they  never  pronounced  that.  The  name  was 
too  awful ;  and  therefore  the  name  of  Jehovah  was  "  Lord."  Where 
we  should  say  "  Jehovah,"  they  would  say  "  Lord." 

The  heathen  nations  had  many  cabalistic  phrases,  qv  words, 
which,  when  pronounced  on  certain  occasions,  were  supposed  to  have 
irresistible  j^ower.  They  were  called,  sometimes,  in  connection  with 
certain  Usages,  "  incantations,"  and  were  supposed  to  have  power  to 


WOEKS  MEET   FOB   BEPENTANGE.  231 

bring  tip  the  vast  untamed  spirits  of  evil  from  their  roaming-ground. 
Or  where,  Avith  certain  otlier  usages,  these  mystic  syllables  and 
'sentences  and  names  were  pronounced,  they  were  thought  to  have 
power  to  cast  out,  and  remand  again  to  their  darkness,  these  great 
spirits  of  evil.  And  for  that  jjurpose  thei*e  was  a  literature,  an 
occult  science.  For  the  professors  of  necromancy  were  not  accustomed 
to  let  every  body  into  their  secrets.  It  was  too  profitable.  It  was 
therefore  a  guild.  It  was  a  class.  Men  bought  the  privilege  of 
knowledge.  They  bought  the  books  that  contained  these  awe- 
inspiring  charms,  and  these  spirit-coercing,  cabalistic  sentences ; 
and  the  books  became  very  valuable. 

Xow,  when  Paul  pronounced  the  name  of  Christ  over  certain  per- 
sons demoniacally  possessed,  and  they  were  healed,  the  exorcists,  of 
wdiich  antiquity  was  as  full  as  New- York  is  of  fortune-tellers,  felt 
that  it  was  only  another  name  of  jDOwer.  They  had  various  names, 
and  various  sentences;  "but"  said  they,  "here  is  a  new  exorcist; 
and  this  is  the  name  that  he  enchants  by."  And  so  they  said,  listening, 
"  We  have  his  secret ;  and  we  can  do  it."  And  on  one  occasion  two 
of  these  seven  brethren  (for  in  the  Greek  it  is  evident  from  the  pro- 
nouns that  only  two  were  concerned  in  this  ludicrous  scene)  thought 
that  with  the  same  name  they  would  cast  out  a  spirit  from  a  man 
that  was  possessed,  and  attempted  it ;  and  the  man  says,  "  Jesus  I 
know,  and  Paul  I  know;  but  who  are  ye?"  and  pitched  into  them, 
and  tore  their  clothes  off  from  them,  and  hustled  them  out !  Their 
success  was  not  eminent ;  and  they  were  ridiculous ;  and  all  the  city 
laughed.  That  is,  it  is  stated  that  it  "  was  known  to  all  the  Jews 
and  Greeks  dwelling  at  Ephesus,"  and  I  venture  to  say  that  such  a 
thing  could  not  happen  in  any  city  without  making  merriment  for 
the  whole  city. 

But  it  had  also  its  very  serious  side.  It  happened  in  such  a  way 
and  at  such  a  time  that  it  produced  a  strong  moral  impression. 
Doubtless  it  was  also  confirmed  and  thoroughly  applied  by  the 
teaching  of  the  apostle,  though  nothing  is  said  in  that  regard.  It 
produced  a  conviction  in  the  minds  of  a  large  claes  of  men  that  were 
accustomed  to  deal  in  these  hidden  and  forbidden  arts,  that  it  was  a 
culpable  career,  and  that  they  had  no  business  to  be  tampering  with 
the  devil.  And  the  consequence  was  that  they  brought  together 
(being  convinced  that  their  life  was  sinful,  and  that  their  career  had 
been  a  deception  and  a  gross  fraud)  all  the  implements  of  their 
wickedness,  and,  heartily  repenting  of  their  transgressions,  burned 
them.     The  language  in  which  this  is  stated  is  very  emphatic : 

"And  many  that  believed  came  and  confessed,  and  showed  their 
deeds." 

It  was  salutary  confession;   it  was  genuine  repentance.    They 


232  WOBKS  MEET   FOR   REPENTANCE. 

did  not  go  disingenuously,  making  believe  that  they  had  been  good 
all  their  life  and  only  wanted  to  be  a  little  bit  better.  They  did  not 
go  telling  a  smooth  story.  They  "  came  and  confessed  "  their  wick- 
edness, and  they  "showed"  the  specific  acts  of  it.  They  told  what 
they  had  done. 

And  that  was  not  all : 

"  Many  of  them  also  which  used  curious  arts  brought  their  books 
together,  and  burned  them  before  all  men:  and  they  counted  the 
price  of  them,  and  found  it  fifty  thousand  pieces  of  silver ;"  that  is  to 
eay,  about  seventeen  hundred  and  seventy  pounds  sterling,  or  be- 
tween nine  and  ten  thousand  dollars  in  our  currency.  If  there  could 
be  found  a  score  of  men  nowadays  that  would  repent,  and  come 
together,  and  burn  up  ten  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  property  as  evi- 
dence of  their  repentance,  I  think  they  woxild  be  received  into  any 
church  without  hesitation  ;  and  yet,  I  fear  that,  if  that  was  the  price 
of  admission  to  the  church,  there  would  be  very  few  conversions  out 
of  the  money-making  population  ! 

There  must  have  been  great  numbers,  and  there  must  have  been 
that  kind  of  influence  which  goes  with  numbers.  The  social  element 
in  religious  movements — that  which  men  often  decry  in  revivals — is 
apt  to  infuse  a  generous  enthusiasm,  a  largeness,  into  men's  minds. 
There  are  times  when  men  can  not  alone  do  noble  things  ;  but  if  there 
be  scores  and  hundreds  of  men  that  seem  at  the  same  time  to  be  filled 
with  the  same  influence,  then  they  rise  to  heroic  proiDortions,  and  are 
able  to  do  easily  things  that  would  overtax  their  individual  power. 

This  seems  to  have  been  one  of  those  cases  where  men  were 
seized,  not  simply  with  a  conviction  of  sin  and  with  a  disposition  to 
repent,  but  with  a  disposition  to  repent  in  a  manner  that  should  be 
heroic,  and  should  stamp  both  their  sense  of  iniquity  and  transgres- 
sion, and  their  sense  of  the  genuineness  of  their  repentance  and  con- 
version. 

And  you  will  take  notice  that  the  narrative  leads  us  to  think  that 
this  was  done  suddenly.  They  struck  while  the  iron  was  hot.  Men's 
inspirations  toward  noble  things,  the  moral  intuitions  which  they 
receive,  ought  to  be  followed  out  instantly.  The  impulses  which 
men  have  from  their  lower  nature,  from  their  passions,  ought  always 
to  be  reviewed  by  their  sober  second  thought ;  but  the  inspirations 
which  men  have  from  their  nobler  natures,  from  their  higher  feel-- 
ings,  ought  not  to  be  made  subjects  of  reflection.  It  is  never  safe  to 
take  them  home  and  think  them  over. 

In  the  glow  of  enthusiasm,  when  some  great  want  is  made  known, 
when  the  crying  necessity  of  some  distressed  community  is  disclosed, 
an  old  rich  man's  heart  is  melted  ;  and  if  he  could  only  pay  down  the 
money  at  once  he  would  give  largely.     He  means  to  give  five  thou- 


WOICKS  MEET  FOR   BEPENTANCE.  233 

sand  dollars ;  but  before  the  meeting  is  over,  thinking  of  it,  he  says, 
"I  will  give  twenty-five  hundi'ed  dollars."  He  goes  home  and  thinks 
of  it,  and  before  he  sleeps  he  says,  "  I  will  give  a  thousand  dollars." 
The  next  morning,  before  the  collector  comes  round,  he  says,  "  Five 
hundred  dollars  is  a  good  deal  of  money  to  give  away."  And  by  the 
time  the  collector  conies,  at  ten  or  eleven  o'clock,  the  man  purposes 
that,  if  he  finds  himself  all  right  on  going  to  his  store,  he  will  give 
the  agent  a  check  for  a  hundred  dollars.  The  collector  follows  him 
over  there,  and,  at  last,  after  a  good  deal  of  haggling,  he  gives 
twenty-five ! 

It  is  well,  where  things  are  generous  and  noble,  not  to  wait  an 
hour  nor  a  moment.  For  the  peculiar  danger  of  men  is  not  that 
they  will  be  too  good,  too  generous — though  you  would  think  so  by 
the  way  they  hedge  themselves  up  and  fortify  themselves  by  maxims 
of  moderation,  and  watchfulness,  and  prudence,  and  deliberation. 
You  would  think  that  men  were  so  fanatical,  and  so  bent  on  being 
noble  and  heroic,  that  they  needed  to  put  on  levers  and  brakes  to 
hold  them  back.  You  would  think  that  there  was  danger  of  their 
running,  and  j^h^nging,  and  taking  the  kingdom  of  heaven  by  vio- 
lence, as  herds  of  wild  buffaloes  take  the  spring  grass  by  violence. 
But  men  are  not  apt  to  be  so  impetuously  pious  ;  and,  on  the  whole, 
men  would  be  a  great  deal  better  if,  when  they  thought  of  a  gene- 
rous, right,  and  noble  thing,  they  would  never  let  themselves  think 
twice,  but  would  put  their  first  thought  into  execution  instantly.  If 
these  men  had  slept  over  the  matter,  I  do  not  believe  they  would  have 
brought  all  their  books  and  burned  them.  They  took  their  good  in- 
tentions on  the  wing,  and  so  brought  them  down. 

I  know  that  there  might  be  much  said  on  the  subject  of  burning 
up  these  books.  Men  might  say,  in  a  case  like  this,  "  Why  destroy 
them?"  Ah!  there  are  some  things  that  had  better  be  destroyed; 
because,  though  you  may  have  repented,  there  is  such  a  thing  as 
backsliding.  If  a  man  is  tempted  to  backslide,  and  has  all  the  im- 
plements of  his  old  wickedness  at  hand,  he  is  very  apt  to  go  on  in  the 
old  way  again.  It  is  best  to  burn  them.  "  But,  if  they  must  be 
taken  out  of  a  man's  hands,  why  not  sell  them  ?  "  Sell  them !  If 
they  are  bad  for  you,  are  they  not  bad  for  any  body  that  buys  them? 
What  kind  of  reformation  is  that  ?  I  have  lieard  of  women  joining 
the  church,  who,  having  a  conscience  that  would  not  let  them  wear 
flowers  and  feathers  in  their  cap,  would  give  them  to  their  younger 
sister !  If  a  man  is  going  to  abandon  wickedness  because  it  is  too 
wicked  for  him,  shall  he  sell  out  his  stock-in-trade  to  another  man,  as 
if  it  were  not  wicked  for  him  ?  But  in  cases  analogous  to  these  men 
say,  "  You  might  have  sold  the  books  and  used  the  money  for  the 
kingdom  of  God." 


234  WOUKS  MEET   FOR   REPENTANCE. 

I  have  a  friend  who  Avas  telling  me  yesterday  that  a  strip  of  land, 
which  was  worth,  according  to  his  judgment,  abont  eight  hundred 
dollars,  and  which  he  Avas  to  part  with  to  the  city,  was  valued,  in 
common  with  a  general  valuation  that  had  taken  place  on  other  pro- 
perty about  it,  at  sixteen  hundred  dollars.  When  he  Avent  to  draAV 
what  he  had  estimated  and  giA'en  in  as  the  bona  fide  value  of  the  pro- 
perty— eight  hundred  dollars — he  refused  to  take  the  sixteen  hundred 
Avhich  Avas  offered  him,  saying,  "It  is  not  Avorth  it."  "But,"  says 
the  clerk,  "it  has  been  assessed,  and  that  amount  has  been  set  apart 
for  you,  and  it  is  yours."  "  No,"  says  the  man,  "  it  is  not  mine.  The 
land  is  AVorth  but  eight  hundred  dollars,  and  I  Avill  not  take  sixteen 
hundred  for  it."  [I  am  not  telling  you  a  dream.  There  is  a  man  in 
Brooklyn  that  did  just  this!]  "But,"  says  the  clerk,  "if  you  do  not 
take  it,  the  city  never  will  get  it,"  (he  Avas  a  Avise  functionary,  and 
he  knew  how  things  go;)  "  and  it  will  do  you  more  good  tlian  it 
would  the  men  who  Avould  get  it."  "  But,"  says  the  man,  "  it  is  not 
mine,  and  Avhy  should  I  take  it  ?"  "  Then,"  says  the  clerk,  "  Avhy  do 
you  not  give  it  to  some  church  or  hospital  ?"  "  Because,"  says  he, 
"it  is  not  mine  to  give;  and  besides,  I  do  not  believe  such  money 
would  do  a  church  or  a  hospital  any  good.  I  believe  God's  curse 
goes  with  such  money,  and  I  will  not  take  it."  "  Well,"  says  the 
clerk,  "  you  are  a  fool !"  And  I  apprehend  that,  if  a  vote  were  taken 
on  the  subject,  ninety-nine  in  a  hundred  along  Wall  street  Avould  vote 
with  the  clerk  that  he  Avas  a  fool. 

There  are  a  great  many  men  Avho  come  to  a  point  in  their  lives 
when  they  can  not,  for  their  own  sake,  do  certain  Avicked  things,  or 
continue  in  Avicked  courses,  but  Avho  are  not  prepared  to  sacrifice,  to 
put  in  the  fire  and  burn  to  ashes,  the  wicked  thing,  or  to  put  beyond 
their  reach  the  Avicked  course.  They  mean  to  make  a  profitable 
turn.  And  they  bribe  their  conscience  by  saying,  "  We  will  sell  the 
books  ;"  or,  "  We  Avill  give  them  to  the  cause  of  charity."  So  they 
"  give  the  Lord  "  the  price  of  their  knavery !  Not  so  these  men. 
Their  impulse  Avas  altogether  generous  and  noble,  and  they  had  the 
good  sense  to  carry  it  out  instantly.  Accordingly,  they  brought 
nearly  ten  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  books  and  burned  them  in  pub- 
lic, before  all  men.  I  never  heard  that  they  Avere  sorry  for  it  then  ;  and 
if  they  are  in  heaven,  I  knoAV  they  have  never  been  sorry  for  it  since. 

This  is  the  history.     In  Adew  of  it,  I  argue  : 

1.  No  man  Avho  desires  to  turn  away  from  an  evil  course  is  wise 
who  does  not  act  with  instantaneous  and  decisive  energy.  A  man 
who  has  been  in  a  career  of  passionate  wickedness  ought,  of  all  men, 
to  understand  that  time  and  Avhat  is  called  "  deliberation"  are  unAvhole- 
8ome  for  his  symptoms,  and  that  instantaneousness  is  an  indispensable 
element  of  health  in  such  a  case  as  his.     There  are  some  things  which 


WORKS  MEET   FOB   EEPEWTAIfGE.  235 

are  helped  by  reflection ;  but  human  passions  are  more  like  confla- 
grations. What  would  you  think  of  a  man,  who,  if  his  house  was  on 
fire,  should  sit  down  and  say,  "  Well,  let  me  consider  it "  ?  What  do 
men  do  when  fires  break  out,  and  are  spreading,  and  are  every  instant 
becoming  more  i;nmanageable  ?  Intense  instantaneity  is  the  law  for 
conflagrations.  But  there  is  no  fire  like  that  which  breaks  out  in  a 
man's  corrupt  nature.  The  man  who  has  been  wallowing  in  lust,  the 
man  who  has  been  on  fire  in  his  passions,  and  who  by  God's  o-reat 
goodness  has  been  brought  to  an  hour  and  a  moment  when,  with  the 
lurid  light  of  revelation,  his  monstrous  wickedness  stands  disclosed 
to  him,  and  all  excuses  are  swept  away,  and  the  impulse  to  reform  is 
at  last  generated  in  him — that  man  ought  not  to  wait  so  long  as  the 
drawing  of  his  breath !  Wherever  he  is,  no  matter  how  decorous 
his  audience  may  be,  if  he  does  the  thing  that  is  safest  and  best,  he 
will  rise  in  his  place  and  make  confession.  Though  it  be  in  church, 
and  it  break  the  order  and  routine  of  service,  he  will  stand  up  and 
say,  "  Here  am  I,  a  sinner,  and  I  confess  my  sin ;  and  I  call  on  God 
to  witness  my  determination  from  this  hour  to  tui'n  away  from  it." 
That  is  the  wise  course;  and  you  would  think  so,  if  it  was  any  body 
else  but  yourself. 

2.  When  men  forsake  sin,  they  ought  to  break  every  bridge 
behind  them,  that  there  may  be  no  retreating,  and  no  going  back. 
After  a  man  is  once  across  the  Red  Sea,  farewell  Egypt  forever. 
Better  the  wilderness,  better  the  frown  and  thunder  of  Sinai,  than 
Pharaoh  with  the  leeks  and  the  onions,  the  cucumbers  and  the  melons, 
and  all  the  pleasant  things  that  made  the  Israelites  long  to  be  back 
again.  A  man  that  has  been  overtaken  by  gi-eat  sins,  and  especially 
sins  that  fire  his  animal  nature,  ought  to  create  an  enmity  between 
himself  and  those  sins,  if  it  be  possible.  He  ought  to  attack  them 
vigorously.  They  are  not  to  be  dealt  with  gently.  They  are  his 
enemies.  There  ought  to  arise  a  warfare  between  him  and  the  things 
which  have  been  wrong  in  his  past  life.  He  has  loved  them  before ; 
he  has  lain  in  the  bosom  of  his  delicate  sins  ;  he  has  wallowed  in  the 
corruption  of  his  mighty  and  monstrous  sins  ;  but  if  a  man  has  been 
called  to  a  Christian  life,  and  has  accepted  that  call,  he  should  under- 
stand that  the  first  step  is  to  hate  evil,  to  abhor  iniquity.  And  there 
ought  to  be  such  a  hatred  between  himself  and  his  old  courses,  that 
there  shall  be  no  danger  of  their  ever  again  coming  together. 

Men  who  have  committed  themselves  to  goodness,  should  come 
out  earnestly,  publicly,  and  instantly,  and  "  show  their  hand,"  as  it  is 
said.  No  arranging  so  that,  if  they  do  not  make  a  sure  thing  of  it 
they  shall  be  able  to  go  back.  None  of  that.  That  does  not  com- 
port with  generous  repentance.  If  a  man  is  worth  salvation,  let  him 
break  with  his  sins  at  once  and  forever.     Let  him  make  an  alliance 


236  WORKS  MEET  FOB   BEPENTANGE. 

with  goodness  ;  and  let  it  be  public  and  open.  Let  a  man  be  frank 
and  fearless,  and  say,  "  Farewell !  my  enemies,  forever  ;  all  liail !  my 
friends,  forever."  There  is  no  middle  course  that  is  safe — certainly 
none  that  is  manly. 

Any  provision  which  a  man's  repentance  carries  secretly  in  it,  in 
case  he  shall  fail  in  virtue,  for  returning  to  his  wrong  courses,  viti- 
ates and  vacates  the  whole  repentance.  What  would  you  think  of 
the  repentance  of  a  robber  who  should  repent  and  forsake  all  his 
cruel  and  wicked  ways,  and  refuse  to  sell  his  poniard  and  his  pistols, 
and  keep  them  close  at  hand,  saying,  "  If  I  should  make  a  failure  in 
this  religion,  I  want  to  have  my  tools  with  which  to  go  back  again 
to  work  "  ?  How  much  of  a  repentance  is  that  ?  What  would  you 
think  of  a  gambler  who,  having  repented,  and  united  himself  to  the 
people  of  God,  should  store  away  his  cards,  and  his  dice,  and  his  rox- 
lette  table,  and  his  faro-bank,  and  all  his  tools  and  instruments  by 
which  to  cheat  the  unwary,  saying,  "  I  do  not  intend  to  touch  these 
things  again ;  but  still,  the  time  may  come  when  I  shall  think  differ- 
ently ;  and  I  will  keep  them"  ?  And  yet,  a  great  many  people  keep 
their  old  sins  warm,  while  they  go  to  tiy  on  virtue,  and  see  if  they 
like  it.  Such  a  reformation  as  this  is  a  sham  ;  it  is  hollow ;  it  is  de- 
ceitful and  hateful.  If  you  are  going  to  forsake  your  sins,  make  up 
your  mind  to  forsake  them.  Cast  them  off  forever  ;  burn  them.  No 
matter  how  precious  they  ai'e,  your  soul  is  more  precious.  Do  it 
openly  ;  do  it  at  once  ;  do  it  publicly  ;  do  it  forever.  Those  books 
were  the  best  taken-care-of  books  that  ever  I  heard  of  They  were 
burned  to  ashes  ! 

3.  Where  men  have  been  involved  in  very  guilty  and  great  sins, 
they  owe  soraetbjug  more  to  religion  than  merely  to  change  from  sin 
to  virtue.  Ther«  is  often,  for  instance,  when  men  repent,  the  neces- 
sity of  reparati'^n.  A  man  that  in  his  past  life  has  been  inflicting 
wrong  may  not  be  able  to  make  all  the  reparation.  A  man  whose 
distributive  gains  have  been  flowing  in  from  a  hundred  sources,  and 
varying  every  year,  may  not  be  able  to  carry  back  the  tribute  and 
re-bestow  it  where  he  fraudulently  or  wickedly  obtained  it.  Yet 
while  this  is  the  case  frequently  in  respect  to  gains,  there  are  many 
things  which  a  man  may  repair.  A  man  may  have  wronged  a 
fellow-man  by  his  tongue ;  and  it  is  necessaiy,  if  he  is  going  to  be  a 
Christian,  that  that  shall  be  all  I'ei^aired.  A  man  may  have  a  quarrel 
on  his  hands  ;  and  if  he  is  going  to  be  a  Christian,  that  quarrel  must 
come  to  an  end.  A  man  may  be  high  and  obstinate  ;  and  that  man, 
if  he  is  going  to  be  a  Christian,  must  come  down  and  confess,  "  I  was 
wrong,  and  I  give  up  the  transgression  wholly,  absolutely."  It  may  be 
that  a  man  has  been  living  on  ill-gotten  gains.  It  may  be  orphans' 
property.     No  matter  if  it  makes  a  beggar  of  him,  the  man  who  is 


WOBKS  MEET   FOB   REPENTANCE.  237 

living  on  fraudulent  gains,  if  he  is  going  to  be  a  Christian,  must  make 
reparation,  and  give  them  up.  If,  for  proper  and  suitable  reasons,  he 
finds  that  he  can  not  give  them  up,  he  must  at  least  confess ;  for 
although  every  body  knows  his  sin,  every  body  does  not  know  that 
he  knows  it — at  any  rate,  they  do  not  know  that  he  knows  it  in  such 
a  way  that  he  is  willing  to  confess  it.  Confession  is  a  testimony  to 
the  power  of  God,  and  to  the  power  of  the  new-found  virtue  in  his 
soul. 

Do  you  say,  "  Who,  then,  shall  enter  the  kingdom  of  God  ?"  All 
things  are  possible.  This  is  what  Christ  meant  when  he  said, 
"Strait  is  the  gate,  and  narrow  is  the  way,  which  leadeth  unto  life, 
and  few  there  be  that  find  it."  When  men  have  been  committing 
great  wickedness,  the  hardest  thing  for  them  to  do  is  to  take  the  first 
steps  toward  reformation.  Those  being  taken,  all  the  rest  will  be 
easily  victorious.  A  man  says,  "If  it  requires  so  much  sacrifice  and 
so  many  transformations  to  be  a  Christian,  I  can  not  afibrd  to  be 
one."  Xo,  you  can  not  afford  to  be  a  Christian  until  you  are  ready 
to  be  a  whole  Christian.  You  can  not  be  a  make-believe  Christian 
and  be  a  profit  to  yourself  or  any  body  else.  And  if  any  man  is  go- 
ing to  live  a  Christian  life,  he  must  renounce  every  known  sin.  If 
he  has  never  been  guilty  of  secret  sins,  he  can  confess  to  men ;  but 
if  his  sins  have  been  committed  secretly,  then  he  can  confess  them  to 
God  alone.  If  a  sin  has  been  committed  ojienly  and  Avidely,  the  only 
salutary  and  wholesome  doctrine  is,  that  there  must  be  this  repara- 
tion and  confession. 

Sometimes  great  sinners  must  abandon  their  companions.  For 
frequently  there  are  sins  which  in  their  very  nature  are  so  wrapped 
up  in  companionship  that  no  man  can  be  safe  who  does  not  break 
with  companions  as  well  as  with  courses.  It  is  not  as  a  general 
rule.  I  do  not  say  that  a  young  man,  violating  no  canons  of  mo- 
rality, dwelling  in  a  virtuous  home,  and  only,  with  his  companions, 
worldly,  and  sinful  by  the  higher  sentiments  misapproj)riated,  ought, 
when  he  becomes  a  Christian,  to  abandon  those  companions.  On  the 
contrary,  he  ought  to  be  a  better  companion  than  he  ever  was  before. 
But  if  you  have  been  in  lust's  companionship,  if  you  have  been  in 
the  fiery  strifes  and  toils  of  the  passions,  then  the  fire  burning  in 
your  companions  will  not  easily  be  slaked  in  you.  There  must  be 
something  more  than  a  simple  and  barren  attempt  to  turn  away  from 
Bin.  You  must  break  with  your  companions.  Your  life  depends 
upon  it.  I  do  not  believe,  for  instance,  that  a  man  addicted  to 
drinking  liquor  to  excess  can  afford  to  live  where  he  will  smell  a 
drunkard's  breath. 

Further  than  this,  in  many  cases  great  sinners  must  sacrifice  pro- 
perty.   I  do  not  mean  by  that  merely  that  they  must  let  it  go ;  but 


238  WORKS  MEET    FOR   REPENTANCE. 

it  must  be  burned  up,  as  it  were,  destroyed  utterly,  as  in  the  text. 
Lot  me  take  a  flimiliar  case  : 

A  man  has  been  keeping  a  liquor-store.  His  business  has  been 
pampering,  creating,  and  satisfying  the  bad,  fiery,  and  destructive 
appetite  for  drink.  By  some  good  jDrovidence  of  God  his  conscience  is 
aroused,  and  he,  feeling  a  virtuous  and  upward  impulse,  says,  "I  will 
break  ofi"  my  sins  by  righteousness  ;  I  will  turn  to  God  ;  I  will  become 
a  Christian  from  this  hour."  It  may  be  that,  going  home,  he  is  drawn 
into  some  rousing,  roaring,  good  Methodist  meeting  ;  and  there  the 
truth  flashes  on  his  soul,  and,  surrounded  by  praying  companions,  he 
is  brought  to  the  point  of  going  up  to  the  altar;  and  he  says  :  "From 
this  hour  I  take  on  myself  the  service  of  God."  He  is  one  of  those 
men  who  are  thoroughly  in  earnest ;  and,  really  penetrated  by  the 
spirit  of  God,  his  conviction  is  genuine;  and  he  says  to  himself : 
"What  shall  I  do  with  my  liquor  ?  I  have  just  got  a  large,  new 
stock  in."  The  devil  says  to  him  :  "Wait  till  you  have  sold  it  out, 
and  then  do  not  buy  any  more."  Would  you  counsel  him  so  ?  One 
man  says  to  him  :  "  If  you  do  not  think  you  have  a  right  to  sell  it 
out  by  the  glass,  why  not  disjiose  of  the  stock  to  somebody  who  has 
not  your  scruples,  and  then  go  into  the  church  ?"  Would  you  coiin- 
sel  him  to  do  that  ?  If  selling  liquor  is  bad  for  him,  is  it  not  bad  for 
any  body  else  ?  Another  man  says  :  "  Let  him  give  it  to  the  hospitals, 
or  some  public  charity,  so  that  it  shall  be  used  medicinally."  The 
probability  is  that  he  would  say:  "Two  thirds  of  it  would  be  the 
worst  kind  of  medicine  that  any  body  ever  took."  But  even  if  it  was 
sound  and  genuine,  if  it  was  unadulterated  and  pure,  though  I  should 
say  that  there  might  be  circumstances  in  which  giving  it  to  hospitals 
or  to  the  army  would  be  a  very  good  use  to  put  it  to,  so  much  stimu- 
lant is  really  needed  among  the  sick  and  the  wounded  ;  yet  is  there 
not  something  better  than  that  which  a  man  can  do  ?  Suppose  he 
should  shut  up  his  bar  the  very  next  day,  and  should  put  up  the 
notice,  "No  more  liquor  sold  here,"  and  should  say,  "I  am  on  the 
next  Saturday  to  be  baptized,  and  I  first  want  my  brethren  to  go 
past  my  store  with  me."  They  go  ;  and  all  being  prepared,  his  men 
roll  out  the  barrels,  and  with  stalwart  blows  he  smashes  in  the  heads, 
and  the  liquor  pours  out  on  the  ground  ;  and  many  men  wish  they 
were  worms,  that  they  might  crawl  after  it  as  away  it  goes,  the 
whole  of  it.     People  stand  by  and  say,  "What  a  fanaticism  this  is !" 

Stop  and  think  a  moment.  Is  that  fanatical  ?  Do  you  believe 
that  a  man  could,  do  any  other  thing  that  would  make  so  much  im- 
pression on  men's  minds  ?  When  a  man  takes  five  hundred  dollars' 
worth  of  stock  right  out  of  his  cellar  upon  the  sidewalk,  and  will 
not  sell  it,  nor  even  give  it  away,  but  says,  "  I  am  now  going  to  sig- 
nify to  the  public  what  I  think  of  this  damnable  business,"  and  de- 


WORKS  MEET   FOR   REPENTANCE.  239 

stroys  it  there,  do  you  suppose  tliat  any  other  act  of  his  could  send 
through  the  whole  city,  through  all  the  newspapers,  and  throughout 
the  nation,  such  a  testimony  ?  Do  you  believe  that  he  could  in 
any  other  way  do  half  as  much  good  ?  You  might  put  that  five 
hundred  dollars  into  Bible  and  tracts,  and  send  them  all  over  the 
world,  and  not  do  a  tithe  of  the  good  that  knocking  that  whisky  in 
the  head  and  sacrificing  it  in  the  public  streets  would  do.  For  the 
young  would  never  forget  it  as  long  as  they  lived.  And  the  old 
Avould  never  forget  it  as  long  as  they  lived.  And  men  that  loved 
whisky,  and  sucked,  and  sucked,  and  sucked  at  it — a  great  light 
would  arise  on  them,  and  they  would  say :  "  If  that  man  has  knocked 
all  that  whisky  in  the  head  of  his  own  free  will,  then  there  is  some- 
thing in  religion."  Nothing  else,  I  think,  would  ever  have  convinced 
them  that  there  was.  And  in  such  a  case  as  this,  do  you  not  think 
it  would  be  better  for  a  man  to  destroy  the  instrument  of  his  wicked- 
ness ? 

Or,  to  take  a  parallel  case,  we  will  suppose  that  a  man  has  been 
running  a  great  distillery,  and  that  his  conscience  is  ill  at  ease.  I 
am  not  now  speaking  of  cellar  distilleries,  nor  of  the  reformed  reve- 
nue distilleries.  I  am  speaking  of  the  olden  time,  when  men  in  the 
country  had  distilleries  that  stood  out  of  the  village,  where  they 
made  an  honest  liquor,  and  were  deacons  and  class-leaders,  or  such 
timber  as  they  made  them  of.  Imagine  that  here  is  the  son  of  an 
honest  deacon,  following  his  father's  business.  He  is  not  a  member 
of  the  church ;  but  he  is  a  moral  man,  and  quite  respectable.  The 
temperance  reformation  has  never  dawned  in  his  neighborliood  ;  but 
by  and  by,  on  the  rolling  wheels  of  enthusiasm,  it  comes,  and  he, 
at  first  angry  and  violent,  is  at  last  persuaded  to  go  to  an  "  experi- 
ence meeting."  There  he  hears  an  able  exposition  of  the  whole  mat- 
ter. He  hears  men  recount  their  sufferings.  He  hears  the  experience 
of  reformed  men.  And  being  at  the  core,  after  all,  an  honest  man, 
and  satisfied  with  what  he  hears,  he  says,  rising  up,  "  Brethren,  citi- 
zens, I  have  been  blind  ;  I  have  been  a  great  sinner  in  this  matter  ; 
but  I  call  God  to  witness  that  this  is  the  last  fire  but  one  that  shall 
ever  be  made  under  my  still.  And  I  want  you  to  meet  me  to-morrow 
at  twelve  o'clock,  and  see  that  last  fire."  Accordingly,  the  people 
all  flock  out.  He  has  every  thing  ready ;  and  at  twelve  o'clock  he 
strikes  a  match  and  sets  fire  to  the  kindling ;  aiad  soon  the  fire  is 
communicated  to  the  building,  and  the  whole  old  still  begins  to  burn, 
and  up  go  the  rolling  flames  ;  and  the  smoke  begins  to  burst  out 
here  and  there,  and  the  still  is  hotter  than  ever  it  was  before.  The 
liquor,  and  all  else  that  is  there  is,  burning  ;  and  every  body  stands, 
afar  off",  and  further  and  further,  from  the  glowing  heat.  And  as 
"  she  "  burns,  the  man  says :  "  There  is  my  testimony  of  reformation. 


240  WORKS   MEET  FOR   REPENTANCE. 

That  is  how  I  speak  temperance.  That  is  what  I  think  of  distilling," 
I  should  like  to  know  if  a  man  could  give  so  strong  a  testimony  of  his 
repentance  in  any  other  way.     Burn  "  her  "  ! 

I  have  one  more  head  to  make,  and  that  is,  that  repentance  in  dif- 
ferent men  must  be  a  very  different  thing.  Although  it  is,  geueri- 
eally  speaking,  turning  from  sin  to  righteousness,  quitting  evil  and 
becoming  good,  yet  this  is  a  very  different  thing  in  different  persons, 
as  we  see  in  the  third  chajoter  of  Luke's  gospel,  where,  when  John 
was  preaching  his  terrible  denunciations,  the  soldiers  came  and  said, 
"  What  shall  we  do,  then  ?"  "  Do  no  violence,"  said  he.  "  Be  con- 
tent with  your  wages.  Be  humane.  Restrain  yourselves  from  rash- 
ness." "  What  shall  we  do  ?"  says  the  custom-house  officer,  "  Exact 
no  more  than  is  your  due."  How  well  human  nature  answers  to 
itself  in  every  age !  That  is  just  the  thing  that  we  should  say  in  our 
day :  "  Collectors,  collect  no  more  than  is  your  due,  directly  or  indi- 
rectly." When  men  repent,  tlie  sign  of  repentance  will  be  according 
to  the  Avay  in  which  they  have  been  sinning.  For  instance,  if  a 
returned  pirate  should  present  himself  to  me  for  admission  to  my 
church,  I  should  demand  of  him  a  very  different  confession  of  sin 
from  that  which  I  should  demand  from  an  ordinary  moral  man  that 
had  been  convicted  and  converted.  Suppose  a  reformed  smuggler, 
who  has  built  him  a  house  back  over  the  ridge,  and  wants  to  be  re- 
spectable, and  considers  the  church  as  the  first  step  in  that  direction, 
and  thinks  he  will  compromise  matters,  and  satisfy  God  and  the  com- 
munity at  the  same  time,  should  present  himself  for  admission  into 
my  church,  what  sort  of  an  experience  do  you  think  I  would  require 
of  him  ?  Do  you  suppose  I  would  let  him  go  through  easy,  knowing 
his  iniquity,  and  suspecting  that  he  would  carry  it  on  as  long  as  pos- 
sible, and  then  slip  into  the  church  in  order  to  get  the  varnish  on 
him,  and  to  get  me  to  put  my  bi'and  on  him,  and  send  him  out  into 
the  community  as  one  of  the  sort  of  saints  which  are  made  in  this 
church  ?  Do  you  not  believe  that  I  would  turn  him  inside  out  ?  Do 
you  not  believe  that  I  would  shake  that  man  until  his  pockets  rattled 
again  ?  Do  you  not  believe  that  I  would  make  that  man  confess  to 
more  than  is  in  the  Longer  or  the  Shorter  Catechism,  or  in  the  West- 
minster faith  ? 

Suppose  a  New-York  judge  should  apply  to  me  for  membership 
in  this  church,  (and  let  me  explain,  in  order  that  I  may  not  be  mis- 
understood, that  Avhen  I  say  a  New- York  judge,  I  mean  a  New- York 
City  ]\v\ge  ;  and  still  further,  let  me  say,  that  I  may  not  be  misun- 
derstood, that  I  mean  an  elective  judge,  and  not  a  federal  one,)  sup- 
pose that  one  of  these  judges  should  come  to  me,  do  you  suppose  I 
would  say  to  him,  "  Venerable  sir,  I  greet  you  !  At  last  you  have 
turned  from  your  evil  way,  and  now  you  wish  to  walk  upon  the  fair 


WOBKS  MEET  FOR   REPENTANCE.  241 

and  smiling  road  to  Zion"  ?  No  ;  I  should  say  no  such  thing  to  Irini, 
I  should  say,  "  Sir,  where  is  that  bribe  of  ten  thousand  dollars  that 
you  took  last  week  ?  Have  you  repented  of  that  ?  and  how  have 
you  repented  of  it  ?  Where  are  those  unjust  decisions  that  you  have 
made  ?  How  stand  you  with  those  drinking,  rowdy,  wicked  men  by 
whose  votes  you  came  on  to  the  bench  ?  Is  it  still  understood  that 
you  are  a  judge  here  for  the  sake  of  making  wickedness  safe  ?  And 
are  you  seeking  an  election  again  by  a  course  that  makes  every 
wicked  man  stand  solid  and  safe  in  his  shoes  ?  Is  that  your  position  ? 
If  the  very  gate  of  heaven  was  in  my  hand,  sir,  I  would  shut  it  in 
your  face,  before  you  should  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God,  if  that 
is  your  repentance  !"  But  if  he  said,  "  I  have  been  the  chief  of  sin- 
ners," and  a  thousand  men  should  say  amen ;  if  he  said,  "  I  have 
known  bribes  direct  and  indirect ;  I  have  been  in  collusion  with  the 
most  monstrous  iniquities  ;  I  have  sent  some  men  to  Sing  Sing,  think- 
ing that  I  deserved  to  go  more  than  they,  (not  many,  for  I  have  kept 
the  choicest  criminals  at  home  for  use  ;)  I  have  been  wholly  corrupt 
until  I  abhor  my  past  life ;  and  I  will  confess  every  transgression 
so  far  as  my  memory  serves  me  ;  for  I  want  the  world  to  under- 
stand that  I  have  been  exceedingly,  horribly  sinful.  I  wonder  that 
God's  lightnings  have  not  blasted  me  before  ;  for  I  have  cori'upted 
the  very  fountain  of  justice,  and  soiled  the  purest  thing  on  earth — a 
judge's  ermine  ;  and  what  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ?" — if  he  said  that,  I 
should  say,  "  Quick  !  quick  !  before  the  fervor  runs  out,  arise  and 
confess  those  sins.  Give  back  again  that  money  to  the  hands  out  of 
which  you  snatched  it.  At  any  rate,  see  to  it  that  the  whole  world 
hears  what  you  confess,  and  sees  that  you  abhor  your  course."  That 
is  repentance.  For  I  tell  you,  if  you  should  take  all  the  robes  of  all 
the  good  judges  that  ever  lived  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  they  would 
not  be  large  enough  to  cover  the  iniquity  of  one  corrupt  judge.  He 
would  stick  out  all  round  !  Nothing  can  atone  for,  nothing  can  pal- 
liate his  wickedness.  No  words  can  be  too  fiery,  no  edge  too  sharp, 
no  thunder  too  mighty,  and  no  lightning  too  hot,  to  scorch  such  a 
man.  If  such  men  are  ever  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  God,  they  must 
be  born  again.  And  there  will  not  be  much  more  left  of  them  when 
they  are  born  again  than  would  make  a  fair-sized  infxnt ! 

In  view  of  all  this  train  of  thought,  let  me  speak  to  you  of  the 
terribleness  of  wickedness.  How  it  eats  like  a  canker  !  How  it  cor- 
rupts the  manliness  of  man  !  How  it  blinds  eyes  that  otherwise 
would  see  !  How  it  deafens  men's  ears  to  the  truth  which  otherwise 
they  would  hear!  How  it  imperils  a  man  in  his  very  fibre;  in  the 
very  elements  of  his  manhood  !  Is  there  any  joy  that  goes  with 
wickedness  which  can  compensate  for  these  terrible  damages  which 
it  inflicts  upon  men?     Is  there  any  thing  in  this  life,  and  certainly 


242  WOBKS  MEET  FOB   BEPENTANCE. 

any  tiling  in  the  life  to  come,  that  can  be  a  compensation  for  that 
sure  condemnation  which  shall  overtake  monstrous  wickedness  ?  It 
is  a  terrible  thing  to  be  a  sinner.  It  is  a  terrible  thing  to  be  a  sinner 
in  a  man's  passions  and  appetites.  It  is  a  terrible  thing  to  have  been 
confederated  in  sin,  and  to  have  been  webbed  up  in  it,  and  to  have 
been  changed  iuAvardly,  until  the  light  that  was  in  the  man  has  be- 
come darkness.  God  puts  conscience  in  a  man  as  a  kind  of  signal, 
guiding  light,  by  which  he  may  keep  in  right  courses  ;  but  when  that 
light  is  darkness,  how  great  is  that  darkness !  It  is  a  terrible  thing 
to  be  a  sinner  in  all  its  moods,  in  all  its  degrees.  The  least  sin  is  a 
yeast  and  leaven  of  condemnation  ;  and  how  much  more  these  migh- 
ty sins,  these  ocean-like  sins,  of  vast,  unfathomable  capacities  ! 

Where  men  are  awaked  from  their  guilty  dream  or  sleep,  repent- 
ance means  something  in  earnest.  It  is  not  simply  a  little  rectification. 
Some  men  seem  to  think  that  their  heart  needs  very  much  such  a  change 
as  their  apparel  does.  A  little  spot  to  be  removed  here ;  a  shoe-string 
to  be  tied  ;  a  cravat  to  be  slightly  adjusted,  and  then  they  are  all  pro- 
perly habited.  Ah  !  that  may  do  for  the  raiment ;  but  the  garments 
that  men's  thoughts  weave  for  them,  the  garments  that  men's  passions 
fabricate  for  them,  are  not  simply  to  be  adjusted  a  little  more  to  this 
and  a  little  more  to  that  pattern.  "  Except  a  man  be  born  again,  he 
can  not  see  the  kingdom  of  God."  Oh  !  that  pride !  Oh !  that  vani- 
ty!  Oh  !  that  burning  avarice  !  Oh!  that  bottomless  lust!  Oh!  those 
raging  desires !  Only  God's  recreating  grace  can  cure  you  and  heal 
yon,  of  them.  It  is  a  serious  thing  to  live.  It  is  an  awful  thing  to 
live  a  life  of  Avickedness.  It  is  a  majestic  reality,  it  is  a  sublime 
truth,  that  a  man  may  be  born  again.  And  though  his  sins  have 
been  like  mountains,  and  though  they  have  been  blacker  than  inid- 
night,  there  is  a  provision  in  the  mercy  of  God,  and  in  the  economy 
of  his  grace,  by  which  the  wickedest  man  may  repent,  if  he  will  for- 
sake his  sins,  and  openly  renounce  them,  and  do  works  meet  for  re- 
pentance. 

There  are,  I  think,  few  things  that  are  more  grand  in  the  history 
of  this  life,  or  that  will  appear  more  grand  in  the  other  life,  than  the 
recovery  of  men  from  wrong  courses.  One  man  is  not  distinguished 
from  another  so  much  in  his  facility  of  sinning.  All  men  sin,  though 
not  alike,  nor  alike  guiltily ;  but  still,  all  men  are  liable  to  sin,  and  to 
fall  by  transgression.  The  thing  that  discriminates  between  a  true 
and  noble  natui'e,  and  a  servile  and  inferior  nature,  is  the  conduct 
which  follows  great  transgressions.  If  a  man  has  fallen  into  sin,  and 
rises  out  of  it,  and,  in  spite  of  every  seduction  and  every  lure,  and 
all  shame,  says,  "  It  is  enough ;  I  have  sinned,  but  farewell  transgres- 
sion, God  helping  me;  all  hail!  hereafter,  virtue  and  truth,  and  duty 
and  riffht " — that  marks  the  great  nature. 


WORKS  MEET  FOE   REPENTANCE.  243 

The  man  that  will  not  repent,  and  can  not  repent,  is  mean  tlirongh 
to  the  verv  stamina  and  stock  ;  but  where  a  man,  having  done  wi'ong, 
has  in  him  this  rebound,  this  resiliency,  this  repenting  power — there 
is  the  sign  of  manhood.  That  is  the  test.  He  is  the  true  man,  not 
who  keeps  from  sin,  (though  that  is  noble,  all  of  us  being  liable  to 
temptation,  and  to  fall  sometimes  into  heinous  transgressions,)  but 
who  can  recover  himself  out  of  the  snare.  A  man,  by  his  cunning, 
may  keep  out  of  the  hands  of  his  enemy  ;  but  the  man  who,  being 
ambushed,  one  man  against  ten,  can,  drawing  his  sword,  face  them, 
and,  though  wounded  and  pressed  back  and  overborne,  at  last  de- 
feat the  whole  of  them,  and  recover  his  liberty  again — ah  !  he  is  the 
hero. 

My  friends,  except  ye  repent.,  ye  shall  not  he  saved.  The  kingdom 
of  heaven  is  near,  and  the  day  of  your  departure  from  this  life  is  near; 
and  there  are  many  of  you  who  have  grievous  sins  on  your  conscience; 
and  there  are  many  of  you  who  have  been  in  wicked  courses  that  are 
unrepented  of  God  knows  it,  angels  know  it,  and  many  men  know 
it.  And  for  your  own  sake,  for  the  sake  of  all  that  is  honorable  and 
true  in  manhood,  for  God's  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  immortality,  I 
beseech  of  you,  repent,  and  be  converted,  that  God  may  save  your 
souls. 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERMOK 

We  draw  near  to  thee,  our  Father,  though  thou  art  the  Creator,  though  thou  shalt  be  the 
Judge,  and  though  thou  art  surrounded  with  all  the  terrible  insignia  of  power  and  of  justice. 
Through  all  gloom,  and  through  all  majestic  symbols,  we  discern  stiH  that  thou  art  our  Father; 
and  in  that  name  our  fears  are  allayed  ;  in  that  name  is  invitation  and  encouragement ;  in  that 
name  is  victorious  hope.  Not  because  wc  are  strong  enough  to  reach  thee  are  we  assured  of  sal- 
vation, but  because  mighty  is  he  that  hath  atoned  for  us,  and  that  now  intercedes  in  our  behalf, 
and  in  whose  hands  is  all  power  for  the  salvation  of  his  own.  It  is  thy  faithfulness,  and  not  our 
righteousness,  that  shall  bring  us  rejoicing  yet  to  heaven's  gate. 

But,  our  Father,  the  greatness  of  the  way  at  times  discourages  us.  Not  alone  are  there  lions 
that  seem  roaring  in  the  very  path  where  our  feet  must  tread,  but  the  air  is  full  of  stinging  temp- 
tations, and  the  grass  of  Insidious  and  unseen  poison,  gliding  every  whither,  and  threatening 
wherever  it  goes.  At  times  our  fears  are  mightier  than  our  hope.  But  in  thee  we  can  do  all 
things.  If  the  whole  armor  of  God  be  on  us,  if  thou  art  on  our  side,  we  shall  be  victors,  yea,  more 
than  conquerors,  through  him  who  loved  us.  We  desire  more  implicitly  to  put  our  faith  in  thee. 
We  desire  to  rise  up  into  thy  life  nnta  our  own  seems  insignificant.  We  desire  to  become  so 
familiar  with  the  thought  of  thy  strength,  that  we  shall  no  longer  measure  ourselves  by  what  we 
can  do,  but  by  the  mightiness  of  what  God  can  do  in  us.  We  desire  to  move  ourselves  away  from 
the  thoughts  of  men,  and  the  sympathy  of  life,  till  we  stand  in  the  great  and  blessed  solitude  of 
divine  thought.  And  from  such  musing  and  meditations  we  desire  to  return  to  life,  not  fearing 
what  man  shall  do  unto  us ;  no  longer  framing  judgments  upon  human  consent ;  no  longer  follow- 
ing the  multitude  ;  but  being  the  disciples  of  the  Lord,  cleansing  ourselves  from  all  iniquity,  and 
separating  ourselves  to  be  a  peculiar  people  zealous  of  good  works. 

We  beseech  of  thee,  O  God,  that  thou  wilt  help  all  thy  servants  again  to  consecrate  themselves 
to  the  work  of  righteousness.  May  they  take  a  covenant-keeping  God  to  be  their  God,  and  his 
counsel  to  be  their  wisdom,  and  his  command  to  be  their  law.  And  we  pray  that  they  may  be 
able  to  bear  witness  to  those  on  every  side  that  it  is  not  in  vain  to  serve  the  Lord ;  that  there  is 
profit  in  keeping  Ma  commandments.    May  the  joy  of  their  souls  abound.    May  they  rejoice  in 


244  WOBES  MEET  FOB   BEPEFTANCE. 

the  Lord,  and  rejoice  evermore,  until  men  shall  be  drawn  thither,  seeing  their  good  •works,  and 
glorify  their  Father  which  is  in  heaven. 

Bless  the  young.  We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  shield  them  from  temptations  that  come 
in  overmastering  power.  Deliver  them  from  the  corruption  of  public  sentiment,  unwise,  selfish, 
and  wiclied.  Deliver  them  from  aU  the  crafty  and  guileful  ways  of  life,  by  which  their  purity  and 
their  rectitude  shall  be  seduced.  Grant  that  they  may  grow  up,  not  with  common  honor,  but  with 
Christian  honor,  with  purity,  with  dignity,  with  nobleness,  with  aU  fruitfulness,  larger  men  than 
this  world  can  breed. 

O  that  the  grace  of  God  in  the  human  soul  might  be  more  than  a  match  for  nature,  that  men 
shall  see  that  it  is  God  that  worlieth  in  us  to  wOl  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure.  And  we  beseech 
of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  those  who  are  going  abroad,  to  jails  and  hospitals,  and  to  the  aban- 
doned and  outcast  populations,  and  are  ministering  not  only  to  their  want,  but  still  more  to  their 
souls'  need.  And  grant  that  they  may  have  abundant  success  in  their  labor,  and  never  grow 
weary  in  well  doing,  nor  think  that  they  are  laying  thee  under  obligation  for  all  their  griefs,  and 
aU  their  toil.  May  they  thank  God  for  the  privilege  of  such  labor,  and  count  themselves  as  or- 
dained therein  to  be  the  sons  of  God. 

"We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  open  the  hearts  of  all  thy  people ;  that  they  may  no  longer 
be  separated  and  divided ;  that  thy  mmistering  servants  may  not  seek  fault  with  each  other ;  that 
Christians  of  every  name  may  be  united  in  common  labor.  In  so  far  as  they  are  alike,  may  they 
rejoice  to  seem  alilce,  and  walk  together  in  peace. 

"We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  heal  this  Union.  Cleanse  us.  Purify  our  laws,  our  institu- 
tions, and  our  public  policy.  Cleanse  our  magistrates,  and  purify  them.  Cleanse,  we  beseech  of 
thee,  the  whole  great  body  of  citizens,  that  they  may  demand  and  insure  more  rectitude,  and  more 
purity  in  public  places.  Give  us  not  over  to  the  corruption  which  our  sins  bring  upon  us.  Re- 
deem us,  we  beseech  of  thee,  from  transgression,  and  purify  to  thyself  a  peculiar  people  in  this 
nation. 

And  we  pray  that  the  light  of  truth  may  shine  everywhere.  May  we  not  become  a  disgrace  in 
our  prosperity  to  those  who  are  seeking  freedom  in  other  lands,  but  may  our  well-doing  be  the 
guarantee  that  they  shall  hold  out  to  tyranny. 

And  we  pray  that  in  all  the  earth  knowledge  may  drive  away  superstition.  May  men  become 
purified,  that  a  true  religion  may  give  them  true  dignity.  Make  them  so  mighty  that  no  throne  can 
oppress  them,  and  no  hand  hold  them  down.  And  so  may  freedom  come  forth  with  knowledge 
and  true  godliness,  and  the  whole  earth  be  purified  to  thy  service. 

We  ask  it  in  the  adorable  name  of  Jesus,  our  only  Lord  and  Saviour ;  to  whom,  with  the 
Father  and  the  Holy  Spirit,  shall  be  rendered  praises  everlasting.    Amen. 


XVI. 

MALIGN  SPIRITUAL  INFLUENCE. 


MALIGN  SPIRITUAL  INFLUENCES. 


SUNDAY  EVENING,  NOV.  29,  1^68. 


"  Be  sober,  be  vigilant ;  because  your  adversary,  the  devil,  as  a  roaring  lion, 
walketli  about,  seeking  whom  he  may  devour.  Whom  resist,  steadfast  in  the 
faith."— 1  Peter  v.  8,  9. 


A  LION"  ranges  for  his  prey.  Although  the  strongest  of  beasts, 
he  is  sly,  and  brings  cunning  to  the  help  of  strength.  He  lies  in 
wait,  he  changes  his  place,  going  about,  and  heating  up^  as  it  were, 
for  his  prey.  He  watches  the  pool  where  men  and  beasts  go  for 
water.  He  lies  near  frequented  paths,  and  is  ready  at  dusk,  or  in 
some  unexpected  moment,  to  leap  forth  upon  his  victim,  and  beat 
him  down  by  strength  whom  he  hath  caught  by  guile.  Then  it  is  too 
late,  when  his  blow  hath  fallen ;  for  who  shall  lift  himself  against  the 
lion  ?  Therefore  he  is  to  be  avoided,  or  detected  and  discovered,  and 
resisted  with  open  fight,  from  which  he  shrinks  and  runs  away. 
Therefore  it  is  otherwhere  said,  "  Resist  the  devil,  and  he  will  flee 
from  you." 

Man's  soul  carries  in  it  the  elements  of  all  good,  and  of  all  evil — 
for  every  faculty  has  its  good  and  its  evil  side  ;  its  temperate  and  its 
excessive  use ;  and  there  is  no  outward  evil  in  the  world  which  is 
not  made  so  by  something  whi^h  represents  it  in  man.  There  is  no 
evil  under  the  general  designation  of  sm,  which  has  not  its  origin 
within.  The  soul  of  man  lies  open,  like  the  Atlantic  coast,  to  all  the 
influences  which  beat  in  from  the  broad  ocean.  Whatever  thing  is 
good,  whatever  thing  true,  whatever  thing  beautiful,  whatever  there  is 
noble  in  the  realm  and  universe  of  God,  is  wafted  in  toward  him. 
And  there  is  in  man  a  susceptibility  to  elements  of  an  ojiposite  nature. 
Whatever  there  is  evil,  whatever  there  is  selfish  or  cruel  or  base,  in 
all  the  realm  of  God's  universe,  is  wafted  in  toward  him,  and  may 

Lbsbon  :  Psalm,  xxm.    Htmns  (Plymouth  Collection) :  Nos.  769,  865,  884. 


246  MALTQN  SPIRITUAL  INFLTIENCES. 

beat  upon  him  as  a  wave  upon  the  shore.  There  is  that  in  man  which 
answers  to  whatever  is  base,  corrupt,  selfish,  lustful,  wicked,  in  the 
outward  world. 

This  is  itself  a  sufficient  reason  for  forethought  and  for  vigilance. 
But  the  sacred  Scripture  declares  that  there  is  a  power  of  temptation 
in  evil  spirits.  If  that  is  not  taught  in  the  Word  of  God,  nothing  is 
taught.  If  it  be  not  taught  that  there  is  a  master  spirit  of  evil,  and 
that  there  be  minor  spirits  many,  then  it  is  not  taught  that  there  is 
a  master  Spirit  of  good  which  we  call  God,  and  angels  many.  And 
any  interpretation  which  wrenches  this  truth  out  of  the  Bible,  does 
not  wrench  the  truth  so  much  as  it  does  the  Bible,  which  it  utterly 
destroys.  For  a  like  interpretation  would  take  out  of  it  any  thing 
and  every  thing,  and  destroy  all  confidence  in  it  as  a  book  of  direc- 
tion, as  a  book  for  guidance. 

I  know  that  it  is  not  in  later  days  so  much  in  fashion  to  speak  of 
Satan  as  once  it  was ;  and  I  think  it  more  than  likely  that  hitherto 
there  has  been  a  kind  of  frequency  and  a  sort  of  use  made  of  the 
term  which  was  not  wise,  and  that  over-action  has  in  some  sense 
produced  a  reaction.  But  that  is  no  reason  why  there  should  not  be 
a  wise  employment  of  this  truth.  If  it  it  be  true  that  as,  on  the  one 
hand,  man  is  susceptible  to  divine  and  beatific  influences,  so,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  is  susceptible  to  malign  and  malicious  influences,  then 
there  is  no  knowledge  which  a  man  can  so  ill  afibrd  to  lay  aside  as 
that.  No  navigator  can  afibrd  to  be  ignorant  of  any  rock  that  lies 
in  his  way,  nor  of  any  quicksand  that  obstructs  his  course.  No 
soldier  can  afibrd  to  be  ignorant  of  any  real  peril  that  lies  before 
him,  or  on  either  flank.  And  certainly,  no  navigator  across  the  sea 
of  life,  no  soldier  that  is  resisting  the  powers  of  evil  in  the  world,  can 
afibrd  to  have  great  and  permanent  perils,  and  be  ignorant  of  them, 
or  disbelieve  them. 

Whatever  else  may  be  said  about  the  Bible,  I  am  sure  no  man  can 
deny  that  it  is  the  best  book  to  guide  men  toward  practical  virtue 
and  true  holiness  that  ever  has  appeared  in  the  world.  Whatever 
may  be  the  disputes  about  its  origin,  whatever  may  be  the  controver- 
sies and  the  doubts  upon  the  various  theories  of  inspiration,  as  a 
practical  book,  as  a  light  to  a  man's  feet  and  a  lamp  to  his  path,  it 
has  proved  itself  to  be,  and  can  by  investigation  be  shown  to  be,  the 
wisest  book  to  follow  that  is  known. 

Now,  if  the  Word  of  God,  as  the  light  of  the  other  world  is 
revealed  and  falls  upon  its  pages,  lays  more  and  more  emphasis  upon 
the  fact  that  man,  in  this  mortal  state,  is  surrounded  by  a  sphere 
filled  with  spirits  that  are  perpetually  tempting  him  to  evil,  it  is  not 
wise  for  us  to  cast  it,  with  a  sneer  of  skepticism,  out  of  our  belief, 
and  out  of  our  head. 


MALIGN  SPIRITUAL  INFLUENCES.  247 

I  know  that  there  are  many  who  disbelieve  in  spirit-agency.  It 
is  inconsistent  with  their  conception  of  a  benevolent  God,  that  he 
shonld  permit  a  devil  to  exist.  I  wonder  what  such  people  do  with 
their  eyes.  I  wonder  what  they  have  been  living  about,  and  in,  and 
for.  Did  you  ever  think  that  on  every  side  there  are  just  exactly  that 
kind  of  spirits  in  the  flesh  which  you  disbelieve  to  exist  out  of  the  flesh, 
and  that  it  is  not,  in  point  of  fact,  inconsistent  with  the  existence  of 
a  benevolent  God,  in  whom  you  believe,  that  there  should  be  men 
who  do,  or  attempt  to  do,  all  that  which  is  ascribed  to  the  great  mas- 
ter Spirit  of  evil  ?  Are  there  not  men  whom  you  may  see  on  every 
corner  almost,  that  will  deliberately,  and  for  the  sake  of  a  pitiful 
pelf,  lead  men  to  drink  up  their  property,  to  destroy  their  reputation, 
to  utterly  ruin  their  households,  yea,  and,  at  last,  yield  up  their  loath- 
some lives  ?  Are  not  men  going  through  this  process  ?  and  are  not 
pearls  dissolved  in  liquor  before  their  eyes  every  day?  And  God 
spares  them,  and  lets  others  come  when  they  die ;  and  the  world  is 
never  without  them.  Look  upon  these  men  who  live  by  the  destruc- 
tion of  their  fellow-men,  and  who  maybe  said  in  some  sense  to  drink 
blood  for  their  sustenance — look  upon  them,  and  say,  if  you  can, 
"  I  do  not  believe  a  benevolent  God  would  jjermit  a  devil  to  exist ; 
it  is  inconsistent  with  divine  benevolence  !"  What  will  you  do  with 
those  facts  ?  Look  upon  men  that  lie  in  wait  all  along  the  ports  of 
our  country.  If  there  be  one  creature  that  might  be  supposed  to 
touch  with  pity  the  heart  of  the  most  obdurate,  it  is  the  sea- 
sick, weary,  overspent  emigrant,  who  has  left  his  home  and  all  his 
associations  behind  him — his  country  and  his  life,  as  it  were — and  is 
cast  upon  a  new  shore,  and  comes  needing  whatever  there  may  be  of 
kindness  and  forbearance  and  gentleness  ;  and  yet  there  are  men  who 
set  their  traps  for  that  game  !  As  there  are  hunters  for  the  beaver 
and  fur-bearing  animals,  so  all  along  our  ports  there  are  hunters  for 
these  miserable,  pitiful,  suflering  emigrants.  They  skin  them  alive, 
and  they  eat  them  bodily !  and  they  do  it  knowing  that  they  turn 
them  out  into  pain,  into  suflering,  into  untold  agonies.  Women  are 
plunged  almost  of  necessity  into  the  very  cauldron  of  men's  lusts, 
and  men  are  driven  to  be  paupers  and  to  become  criminals;  and  these 
men,  confederated,  lurk  and  lie  in  wait  to  destroy  and  devour ;  and 
you  look  on  that  scene,  and  know  it  to  be  existing,  and  know  that  it  is 
being  enacted  in  wholesale  and  in  retail,  and  do  not  believe  that  a  be- 
nevolent God  could  let  a  devil  live !  Why,  society  is  knee-deep 
with  men  who  have  no  other  function  in  life  but  to  desti-oy  their  fel- 
low-men. There  is  a  large  class,  an  army  of  men,  the  whole  power 
of  whose  brain  is  directed  to  wasting  substance,  to  perverting  prin- 
ciple, to  destroying  good  habits.  They  study  men's  weaknesses  as 
robbers  study  the  weak  point  of  a  house  where  they  would  commit 


248  MALIGN  SPIRITUAL  INFLUENCES. 

burglary.  Men  there  are  who  are  trained  to  wickedness,  who  are 
professionally  wicked,  who  are  scoundrels  scientifically.  And  so  they 
live;  and  so  society  is  perpetually  gnawed  and  ratted  with  these  very 
men.  And  men  say  they  do  not  believe  a  benevolent  God  would 
ever  let  a  devil  live.  They  say,  "It  is  not  consistent  Avith  his  attri- 
butes." Oh  !  be  ashamed  of  yourself,  if  you  have  ever  reasoned  so ! 
Never  hang  out  your  own  folly  again  on  such  reasoning  as  that.  If 
there  is  a  devil  incorporeal,  if  there  is  a  mighty  spirit  that  does  mis- 
chief and  loves  mischief,  it  is  only  the  same  thing  in  the  spirit-world 
that  you  see  in  the  bodily  world,  that  you  know  to  exist,  whose  mis- 
chiefs are  manifold,  intricate,  continuous,  wide-spread,  self-propa- 
gating, and  about  which  there  can  be  no  contradiction.  God  suffers 
these  things  here ;  and  where  is  the  presumption  that  he  does  not,  for 
reasons  which  we  do  not  know,  but  which  will  seem  infinitely  wise, 
doubtless,  when  we  shall  know  them,  permit  spirits  of  evil  elsewhere  ? 

Human  life  is  thus  beset  on  either  hand.  It  stands  midway 
between  the  two  great  gulf-streams  of  the  universe,  one  bearing  in 
from  the  Equator  all  good,  and  the  other  flowing  from  the  Poles  all 
chill  and  cold.  There  is  this  vast  circulation  in  the  spirit  ocean,  as 
well  as  in  the  natural  ocean. 

If,  then,  you  take  the  word  of  God  to  be  really  a  practical  guide, 
I  am  sure  you  can  not  but  give  heed  to  those  alarum  sounds — the 
long-roll,  as  you  might  say — that  ever  and  anon  wake  you  in  the 
night  to  tell  you  tliat  the  enemy  are  coming,  to  bid  you  beware,  and 
to  put  on  the  whole  armor  of  God,  and  to  stand ;  and  having  done  all, 
to  stand  and  wait. 

Let  us  inquire  a  little  into  the  nature  of  this  influence.  We  have 
already,  this  morning,*  spoken  of  influences  for  good  ;  of  inspiration  ; 
of  what  the  divine  Spirit  does ;  of  some  of  the  respects  in  which  the 
divine  Spirit  of  all  good  acts  upon  the  minds  of  men.  We  take  the 
converse,  to-night,  which,  instead  of  being  i7ispiratio7i,  is  usually  called 
temptation. 

Temptation  holds  a  parallel  and  analogic  course  with  inspiration. 
It  is  simply  a  stimulus,  coming  from  wherever  it  may,  applied  to 
a  fiiculty,  or  to  classes  of  faculties,  in  the  human  mind — faculties 
of  which  men  have,  or  should  have,  might  have,  full  control.  Temp- 
tation never  works  out  any  thing.  It  merely  gives  impulse,  sugges- 
tion, stimulus.  If  any  evil  is  wrought  out  through  you,  you  work  it 
out  wholly  and  absolutely.  As  we  showed  this  morning,  no  virtue 
is  wrought  out  by  the  divine  mind,  and  then  deposited  in  the  human 
soul.  No  conception  is  pictorially  drawn,  and  then  slid  into  the 
knowledge-chamber  of  the  human  mind  already  formed.  The  divine 
influence  simply  vivifies  and  impels  the  natural  organism,  by  which 

•  See  No.  xii,  p.  181. 


MALIGN  SPIBITUAL   INFLUENCES.  249 

God  o-overns,  and  on  which  government  stands.  And  so  precisely  is 
it  with  the  converse,  with  the  o2Dposite.  Malign  influence  is  simply 
suo-o-estive,  stimulative.  It  merely  impels.  And  if,  being  impelled, 
men  do  evil,  as  when,  being  impelled,  they  do  right,  the  right  or  the 
wrong  is  their  own  act,  for  which  they  are  responsible.  For,  al- 
though they  were  pushed  to  it,  tempted  to  it,  they  had  plenary  power 
to  do  it  or  not  to  do  it. 

N"o  man,  therefore,  is  carried  away  under  temptation,  or  by  temp- 
tation. Many  men  carry  themselves  away.  No  man  is  overborne 
by  temptation  in  any  literal  sense,  although  figuratively  the  language 
is  employed  properly  enough.  Temptation  does  not  destroy  self- 
control.  It  may  intensify  its  difficulty,  but  it  does  not  invalidate 
plenary  power.  The  strength  of  the  temptation  lies  wholly  in  the 
faculty  which  it  tempts.  If  the  feeling  is  weak  in  you,  temp- 
tation will  always  be  weak.  If  the  feeling  is  strong  in  you,  temj^ta- 
tion  will  always  be  strong.  Temptation  goes  with  the  strongest 
faculties.  A  man  that  is  very  benevolent  is  tempted  to  be  wasteful 
and  indiscriminate  in  the  use  of  his  means ;  but  a  very  stingy  man  is 
never  tempted  to  be  a  spendthrift.  A  man  of  strong  nature  toward 
anger,  is  tempted  to  be  angry ;  but  a  man  that  is  perfectly  cold,  and 
cautious,  and  self-possessed — the  devil  does  not  waste  ammunition  on 
him  to  make  him  angry!  If  he  be  cold  and  pulseless  in  his  nature, 
then  he  is  tempted  to  wickedness  that  lies  over  in  that  direction — tO' 
the  negatives,  which  are  gigantic  and  mighty.  For  men  that  do  not 
do  any  good  are  sinners,  just  as  the  North  Pole  is  a  sinner,  which 
has  no  summer ;  which  is  mighty  in  chilliness ;  which  is  ice ;  which  is 
winter.  Temptations  go  along  turnpikes  in  the  human  soul.  Where 
broad  passions  are,  where  broad  tracks  of  power  lie,  where  men  will 
go  if  they  are  only  pushed — that  is  where  temptations  ply.  As  I 
have  said,  they  run  with  the  strongest  faculties,  with  the  sti'ongest 
appetites,  with  the  strongest  passions,  with  the  strongest  habits. 

This  truth  is  of  such  practical  importance  and  scope,  that  I  shall 
emphasize,  more  than  I  otherwise  should,  the  conditions  of  mind 
which  make  temptations  by  evil  natures  fatal  and  dangerous. 

Every  right  and  good  tendency  of  the  soul  draws  to  itself  food 
for  goodness.  Goodness  attracts  goodness.  Goodness  sees  good- 
ness in  human  life.  Goodness  is  likely  to  take  hold  on  goodness. 
A  man  that  is  benevolent  sees  wonderful  indications  of  divine 
benevolence  in  nature,  and  wonderful  indications  of  divine  be- 
nevolence in  society,  and  the  quality  and  beauty  of  benevolence 
in  his  fellow-men.  A  man  that  is  himself  full  of  benevolence, 
going  out  and  walking  through  the  day,  comes  back  at  night, 
and  marvels  that  there  is  so  much  gold  streaked  through  the 
rook  of  human  life.     He  finds  what  he  carries.     He  is  susceptible 


250  MALIGN  SPIRITUAL   INFLUENCES. 

to  that  wliich  is  strong  in  himself.  A  man  that  is  mirthful  shall 
walk  by  Mr.  Soberside  who  never  saw  a  humorous  thing,  and  who 
marvels  that  his  companion  is  jDerpetually  cachinnating.  The  sober 
man  feels  nothing,  and  sees  nothing ;  but  the  man  that  is  mirthful  is 
sensitive  to  every  thing  that  is  grotesque  in  nature  or  among  men. 
Children  seem  grotesque;  actions  seem  grotesque;  men's  speeches 
twine  themselves  into  odd  postures  ;  the  mistakes  which  men  com- 
mit, and  the  thousand  suggestions  and  analogies,  the  likenesses  and 
the  contrasts,  which  are  presented  to  the  mind,  take  on  attitudes  cor- 
responding to  the  feeling  that  is  looking  at  them,  or  show  them- 
selves in  its  light.  Life  is  full  of  amusement  to  an  amusing  man. 
Fortunate  is  he  who  has  this  foculty.  It  is  more  blessed  than  a  gar- 
ment in  cold  weather.  There  is  nothing  that  so  covers  the  nerves, 
there  is  nothing  that  so  tempers  passion  and  anger,  there  is  nothing 
that  is  such  a  natural  cure  for  discontent,  there  is  nothing  that  brings 
down  men  to  such  a  Ica'cI,  and  creates  such  fellowship,  as  the  divine 
spirit  of  mirth.  It  is  despised  in  the  sanctuary,  and  nearly  cast  out, 
though  oftentimes  it  is  of  God,  and  leads  back  to  God,  if  it  is  not 
perverted.  A  man  that  has  this  feeling  in  him,  unperverted,  sees  life 
and  men  full  of  it.  And  so,  a  man  having  immensity  of  conscience, 
and  going  out  into  life,  is  everywhere  confronted  by  justice.  The 
configuration  of  things,  the  laws  under  which  a  man  is  acting,  the 
heavens  above  him,  the  earth  beneath  him,  are  all  full  of  tliis  great 
element  of  eqnity,  "or  of  truth,  or  of  justice,  or  of  rectitude;  and 
righteousness  is  the  man's  familiar  word,  because,  like  a  magnet,  that 
strong  feeling  in  him  draws  the  feeling  of  conscience  in  all  its  infinite 
developments  in  human  society.  So  a  good  man  attracts  goodness, 
and  is  sensitive  to  goodness.  The  better  you  are,  the  more  qualities 
there  are  in  life  helping  you  to  be  good. 

When  once  a  man  has  the  balance  of  his  soul  right,  when  once 
the  faculties  that  have  jsower  and  suj^remacy  begin  to  take  hold  on 
purity,  on  honor,  on  truth,  on  love,  on  fidelity,  and  on  goodness,  and 
the  man  carries  such  a  vitality  in  things  that  they  have  intuitions  in 
them,  that  they  have  revelatory  power,  how  does  all  nature  begin  to 
teach  a  different  lesson  !  How  does  the  morning  repeat  the  lesson  of 
goodness  to  him,  and  the  evening  echo  it  back  to  him  again,  and 
"  the  heavens  declare  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  earth  show  his  handi- 
work !  Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto  night  showeth 
knowledge."  As  sentinels  that  relieve  each  other  tell  what  has  passed 
in  the  night,  so  sentinel  day,  relieved  by  the  coming  day,  maketh  re- 
port ;  and  night  unto  night  discloses  the  record  of  the  night.  It  is 
easy  to  be  good,  after  you  have  received  impulsion  toward  goodness. 

This  is  the  bright  side,  this  is  the  blessed  constitution,  which  ia 
given  to  the  world.     This  is  that  which  we  recognize  to  be  a  fact,  not 


MALIGN  SPIRITUAL  INFLUENCES.  251 

depending  alone  upon  the  thus  saith  the  Lord^  but  simply  upon  what 
you  see  and  what  you  feel  in  human  life.  In  other  words,  God's  un- 
written revelation  teaches  the  same  as  his  written  revelation  does  in 
this  matter. 

Now,  the  converse  is  true.  A  bad  man  finds  that  which  is  bad. 
lie  carries  it  with  him.  An  irritable  man  finds  not  only  irritable 
men,  but  occasions  for  irritability.  A  quarrelsome  man  finds  occa- 
sion to  quarrel  in  every  nook  and  corner.  A  discontented  man — O 
the  jolts  that  are  under  his  wheels !  O  the  provocations  that  are 
brought  to  bear  upon  him  !  The  world  is  full  of  disturbances,  and  the 
disturbed  man  carries  that  which  gathers  all  these  elements.  He  cen- 
tres them  upon  himself;  and  he  is  open  to  them;  and  they  report 
themselves  to  him,  and  journalize  themselves  in  his  sensibility.  A 
dishonest  man  every  day  has  ten  thousand  things  telling  him  of  dis- 
honest ways.  More  than  mosquitoes  in  summer  are  the  thoughts  of 
dishonesty  that  are  round  about  a  brain  that  naturally  tends  to  be 
dishonest.  If  a  man  begins  to  lust  after  these  things,  if  the  tendency 
is  in  him,  if  the  taint  is  in  him,  why,  ho  will  think  of  more  things  that 
a  man  could  do  and  make  by  it,  than  an  honest  man  could  think  of  in  all 
his  life.  For  when  a  man  is  dishonest,  and  carries  dishonesty  along 
with  him,  the  thought  starts  ujd  from  every  thing ;  the  suggestion 
flashes  from  every  open  door;  the  intimation  comes  from  men's  con- 
duct, from  their  faces,  from  something  which  they  read,  from  some- 
thing which  they  hear.  Everywhere,  all  the  time,  round  about  him 
swarm  hints  of  wickedness.  And  the  man  says,  "  I  am  tempted  of 
the  devil."  Yes  ;  and  the  devil  knows  where  to  tempt  yon.  He  sows 
his  seed  on  ground  that  was  prepared  beforehand.  He  does  not  waste 
strength  to  touch  torpid  chords  in  you.  He  looks  at  you,  and  sees 
where  you  can  be  made  to  do  evil ;  and  there  it  is  that  his  fingers 
practice. 

So  selfishness  everywhere  finds  occasion  for  selfishness.  Pride? 
Why,  the  woi'ld  is  full  of  reasons  why  a  man  should  be  proud,  if  a  man 
is  only  proud  to  start  with.  Frivolous  and  sinful  vanity  finds  itself 
solicited  into  being  on  ten  thousand  occasions.  And  everywhere,  not 
the  trembling  and  broken  waves  flash  back  so  many  brilliant  beams 
of  sunlight  from  the  face  of  the  disturbed  sea,  as  life  flashes  beams  of 
vanity  on  one  that  is  open — being  strong  in  that  tendency — to  such 
suggestions  and  such  temptations. 

And  that  which  is  true  of  these,  is  just  as  true  of  lust,  and  just  as 
true  of  appetite.  The  occasions  are  external;  but  the  powers  on 
which  these  occasions  act  ai*e  internal  and  personal,  belonging  to 
your  very  nature.  So  that  the  moral  condition  which  you  carry  into 
life  constitutes  the  first  great  ground  of  susceptibility  to  inspiration 
on  the  side  of  good,  and  to  temptation  on  the  side  of  evil. 


252  MALIGN  SPIRITUAL   INFLUENCES. 

To  this  must  be  added  the  want  of  fixed  and  ruling  purposes  "by 
which  you  meet  and  resist  evil  tendencies.  This  is  the  second  ground 
of  danger  and  peril,  in  the  circumstances  under  which  men's  proba- 
tion transpires.  There  is  much  in  life  that  is  easily  overcome,  if  there 
be  a  positive  and  steadfast  resistance  to  it.  But  if  we  are  languid,  if 
we  are  pulseless,  we  become  a  prey  to  it. 

Physicians  tell  us  that  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  predisposition  to 
epidemic;  that  the  air  becomes,  as  it  were,  tainted,  and  that  those 
who  are  vigorous,  who  have  resisting  power,  resiliency,  escape  ;  while 
those  who  are  predisposed,  who  have  no  nerve  resistance,  who  have 
no  power  to  throw  off  disease,  are  taken. 

And  that  which  is  true  physically  is  just  as  true  morally.  Where 
men  are  languid,  where  they  have  no  habit  of  resistance,  no  course, 
no  current,  no  victorious  on-coming  tendency,  the  temptations  that 
fiill  upon  them  become  far  mightier  than  they  would  need  to  be  if 
they  had  moral  constitutions.  A  man,  therefore,  that  has  not  been 
morally  bred  or  religiously  trained ;  a  man  that  has  thrown  off  fear 
and  restraint,  and  become  morally  dissolute — such  a  man  becomes 
subject  to  temptation,  and  temptation  is  mighty  on  him.  Ah !  when 
the  eagle  goes  out  an  airing,  a  tempest  seems  to  the  beat  of  his  strong 
wing  to  be  but  a  zephyr.  It  is  strength  of  wing  that  measures 
the  power  of  the  wind.  And  when  a  man  is  unresisting,  the  least 
temptations  become  mighty  to  him,  and  seem  to  fill  the  whole  heaven. 

The  habit  of  doing  wrong  makes  it  more  sure  that  temi^ta- 
tions  will  be  victorious  over  men.  Indeed,  there  are  thousands 
of  men  who  never  seem  to  themselves  to  be  tempted,  for  the 
simple  reason  that  they  have  ceased  to  do  good  and  learned  to  do 
evil.  It  never  occurs  to  them  what  they  are  doing.  Just  as  a  man 
will  swear  till  he  ceases  to  know  that  he  is  profane  ;  just  as  a  man 
will  lie  till  he  really  docs  not  discriminate  between  what  is  true  in 
his  speech  and  Avhat  is  false ;  just  as  a  man  indulges  in  any  habit  till  he 
gets  used  to  it,  till  he  is  wonted  to  it,  till  it  becomes  a  second  nature 
to  him,  so  is  it  with  the  whole  moral  constitution.  "  Shall  the 
Ethiopian  change  his  skin,  or  the  leopard  his  spots  ?  saith  the  Lord.'' 
Tlien  may  they  that  are  "  accustomed  " — habituated — "  to  do  evil, 
learn  to  do  well." 

There  is  but  one  other  circumstance  that  enhances  the  power  of 
temptation,  and  that  is  the  social  element.  We  know  what  the  power 
of  the  social  element  is,  to  do  good.  We  know  how  virtues  thrive  in 
the  society  of  virtues.  We  know  how  one  virtue  tends  to  have  a 
companion  ;  and  how  that  tends  to  take  a  third.  We  know  how  the 
moral  upward  tendency  is  to  take  on  added  virtues,  and  join  one  to 
another.  We  know  how  men  that  are  striving  to  do  that  which  is 
right,  and  pure,  and  true,  and  good,  form  fellowships  for  this  purpose 


MALIGN  SPIRITUAL  mFLUENCES.  253 

It  becomes  easier  for  each  one  of  them.  And  the  converse  is  true. 
Where  men  who  tend  to  do  wrong  associate  themselves  with  men 
who  do  wrong,  it  becomes  easier  to  do  wrong.  The  atmosphere  which 
they  form  is  fatal  to  them.  The  sense  of  shame  is  hidden,  the  mo- 
tives are  magnified,  magnetic  tendencies  are  established  ;  and  all  of 
them  work  in  that  direction.  So  that  when  a  man  is  bad  by  nature, 
feeble  in  conscience,  addicted  to  habits  of  mischief  or  evil,  and  sur- 
rounded by  societies  that  are  like  him,  his  case  becomes  disastrous  to 
the  last  degree.  I  do  not  wonder  that  the  word  of  God  speaks  of 
such  as  "  reprobate  ;"  as  "  sold  under  sin ;"  as  "  dead  in  trespasses 
and  in  sins."  The  force  of  the  divine  language  in  sacred  writ  is  not 
exaggerated.  It  measures  itself  over  and  over  again,  and  is  proved 
to  be  accurate  by  the  actual  facts  of  observation  in  common  life. 

Consider,  in  view  of  this  exposition,  first,  whether  that  indifier- 
ence,  that  sense  of  security  which  prevails  among  men,  can  justify 
itself  to  their  reason,  when  there  are  such  tremendous  odds  at  stake; 
when  we  live  for  immortality  or  for  death  eternal ;  when  it  is  wreck 
and  ruin  or  salvation  and  blessedness  forever.  Surroimded,  as  men 
are,  with  these  influences — inspiration  from  God,  temptation  from 
evil,  and  wrestling  for  leave  to  be  forever — can  indifference  be  any 
thing  but  a  stupendous  folly,  not  to  say  crime  ?  There  are  many 
men  who  think  this  is  not  being  wicked,  and  in  the  sense  of  violating 
the  canons  of  social  life  they  may  not  be  wicked;  but  can  .a  man 
redeem  himself  from  the  stigma  of  monstrous  wickedness  who  puts 
the  total  of  his  existence  at  stake ;  who  is  so  living  that  the  very 
ends  of  his  creation  are  in  danger  of  being  sacrificed  ?  Is  moral  in- 
difference a  mere  venial  offense  ?  Is  thoughtlessness  excusable,  consid- 
ering what  men  have  to  think  about ;  considering  what  is  the  nature  of 
the  truths  that  are  overhanging  them  ;  considering  what  a  path  they 
pass  through  ;  considering  what  a  voyage  they  are  making ;  considering 
what  perils  surround  them,  or  follow  them,  or  wait  for  their  coming  ? 
Considering  ^\\i2it  foundering  means  in  the  great  sea  of  human  life,  is 
it  a  thing  for  a  man  to  justify  himself  in  ?  Is  a  man  justified  in  say- 
ing, "To  be  sure,  I  am  not  a  Christian ;  but  then,  on  the  other  hand, 
I  am  not  a  sinner  or  a  culj^rit.  I  suppose  I  do  not  think  as  much  as 
I  ought  to  about  these  things  ;  but  I  mean  well,  and  aim  to  discharge 
my  duties  in  the  family,  and  am  a  good  neighbor,  a  proper  man,  and 
a  good  friend.  And  I  try  to  deal  justly  in  my  business.  I  suppose  I 
ought  to  be  thoughtful  in  religious  matters,  but  I  am  not "  ?  Is  that 
the  way  for  a  man  to  talk  about  the  very  end  for  which  he  was 
brought  into  life  ? 

When  men  were  gathered  together  for  marksmanship,  what  would 
you  think  of  that  man  who  should  fire  wide  of  the  mark,  but  should 
talk  about  the  silver  inlaid  in  the  breech  of  his  rifle,  and  the  chas« 


254  MALIGN  SPIRITUAL  INFLUENCES. 

iug  on  the  lock  ?     He  does  not  hit  any  thing  ;  but  then  it  is  such 
a  pleasant,  pretty  weapon,  and  it  has  such  beautiful  tiimmings  ! 

Plere  is  a  man  that  takes  aim  for  eternity,  but  does  not  hit.  To 
avoid  utter  destruction  and  to  take  hold  on  eternal  life  is  the  great 
end  set  before  every  man — with  motives  massive,  multitudinous, 
urgent,  terrific ;  and  the  man  trifles  and  putters  under  this  thunder 
and  pressure  of  the  moral  nature,  and  says,  chattering  like  a  parrot 
"  Of  course,  I  do  not  suppose  I  think  as  much  as  I  ought  to  about 
these  things ;  but  I  try  to  do  my  duty  in  my  family  and  in  my 
business  ;  and  I  do  not  think  I  am  a  very  bad  man."  All  that  is 
worth  having  is  going  by  deliquescence  ;  life  itself  is  dissolving  into 
nothingness ;  all  that  there  is  in  immortality  is  perishing  steadily 
from  your  view ;  evil  is  swelling  around  you,  and  drawing  nearer, 
and  coming  oftener,  and  with  more  victories ;  and  the  moral  proba- 
bilities increase  that  evil  will  be  your  destroyer  and  master  ;  and  yet 
you  talk  about  yourself  as  though  you  were  not  as  good  as  you  might 
be,  but  still  as  though  you  were  pretty  good  ! 

A  captain  has  lost  his  ship,  and  lost  all  his  crew,  and  lost  all  his 
freight ;  but  he  kept  his  decks  clean,  and  fiddled  every  night  for  the 
amusement  of  his  crew  !  What  would  you  think  of  such  a  report  as 
that  of  a  man  who  was  making  a  voyage  ?  The  old  ship  went  down, 
all  that  it  was  built  for  went  down,  and  all  that  it  was  carrying  went 
down  ;  but  he  had  a  good  fiddling  time !  Here  are  men  that  are 
wrecking  every  thing  for  which  they  were  made,  and  all  they  have 
to  say  is,  that  they  chatter  pleasantly  and  sing  pleasant  songs,  and 
are  quiet  and  pleasant  neighbors.  Judge  ye  of  such  men.  Judge 
yourselves  ! 

Consider,  again,  how  many  adversaries  are  moving  upon  every 
single  point  of  your  nature.  Consider  how  the  course  of  society, 
while  it  is  wholesome  to  those  who  are  wholesome,  is  i^ernicious  to 
those  who  are  pernicious.  Consider  how  the  course  of  this  world, 
while  it  carries  in  it  moral  government  and  moral  drill  to  those  that 
ai'e  morally  inclined,  carries  in  it  demoralization  to  those  that  are  not. 
Consider  what  special  temptations,  over  and  above  this  general  tenor 
of  society,  are  marching  out  upon  you  from  your  business.  A  man's 
business  is  itself,  oftentimes,  a  vast  lazar-house.  N"ot  that  it  need  to 
be.  Business  is  wholesome.  It  is  indispensable  to  wholesomeness. 
A  man  that  has  nothing  to  do  can  not  be  a  good  man.  A  lazy  saint  is 
an  anomaly  in  the  universe,  and  Avill  be  found  nowhere  but  in  a  fool's 
paradise.  Business  is  morality.  And  yet,  to  those  who  are  not 
strongly  inclined  to  the  moral  element,  how  does  business  perpetual- 
ly thrust  out  poison  stings  ;  and  how  do  men  complain,  as  they  go 
along  through  life,  that  they  carry  their  business  wearily,  and  that 
they  watch  against  it  because  it  is  their  adversary  !     A  man's  busi- 


MALIGN  SPIRITUAL  INFLUENCES.  255 

ness  ought  to  be  like  wind  against  the  sails  of  a  ship  on  a  voyage, 
to  help  a  man,  and  not  to  hinder  him. 

Consider,  too,  all  the  temptations  which  spring  upon  you  from  in- 
dividual men.  How  many  dangers  are  there  from  your  associations ! 
There  are  men  who  are  being  carried  down  by  ungodly  women. 
There  are  men  who  are  being  carried  down  further  and  further  from 
themselves  and  God  by  ungodly  men.  You  have  sneering  and  scoffing 
companions.  You  have  companions  who  are  not  now  infidels,  but 
who  like  to  make  sport  of  every  thing  that  is  most  sacred  to  you. 
Your  faith  is  a  background  on  which  they  like  to  flash  their  phos- 
phorescent wit.  As  though  you  needed  additional  temptation, 
you  are  holding  to  your  bosom,  as  it  were,  a  viper. 

Then  consider  the  evil  fellowship  which  you  have  in  the  com- 
pany in  which  you  go  at  large.  The  very  atmosphere  which  you  are 
breathing  is  fraught  with  evil. 

Consider,  many  of  you,  that  you  have  secret  and  open  sins,  which 
are  themselves  like  cancers  draining  the  body  of  its  strength  and 
stamina,  and  eating  at  the  very  vitals.  You  are  carrying  cancers, 
some  of  you.  You  would  not  have  men  know  what  you  know,  not 
for  God's  right  hand.  If  you  were  to  open  the  door  of  the  secret 
chamber  of  your  soul,  it  would  fill  you  with  lamentation  and  outcry 
and  shrieks.  You  would  not  have  men  know  the  condition  of  your 
heart  for  the  world.  Oh  !  the  deep  damnation  that  there  is  in  secret 
sins,  which  no  physician  sees,  nor  probes,  nor  cauterizes,  nor  cures, 
but  which  eat  on  and  on,  till  at  last  you  die.  And  then  men  do  not 
know,  but  God  knows,  that  it  was  these  cancers  of  the  soul  that 
destroyed  you. 

Upon  all  these  temptations  there  descends  (whatever  it  may  be,  I 
know  not,  nor  does  philosophy)  that  malign  influence  which  sweeps 
in  from  the  great  spirit-world,  against  which  God  bids  us  take  heed, 
and  which  we  can  not  afibrd  to  be  tempted  by. 

Now,  I  ask  every  thoughtful  man  to  whom  these  words  have 
brought  some  sensibility,  did  you  ever  sit  down  and  calculate  what 
are  your  chances  of  eternal  life  ?  I  think  you  would  find  it  a  more 
solemn  calculation  than  you  ever  entered  into.  Suppose,  for  instance, 
you  should  calculate  on  this  basis  :  "  What  should  I  think  of  another 
man  of  whom  I  knew  as  much  as  I  know  about  myself?  What  should 
I  think  of  his  chances  of  salvation  ?"  Take  your  own  name  away, 
and  make  the  calculation  upon  the  elements  that  are  in  yourself,  and 
call  it  somebody  else  ;  then  take  the  other  name  away,  and  jHit  your 
name  there ;  and  what  kind  of  a  result  would  you  get  ?  Consider, 
what  men  who  are  placed  in  like  circumstances  are  actually  doing, 
and  what  you  know  they  are  doing.  See  how  one  after  another  is 
falling  down  in  the  midst  of  life ;  see  how  one  after  another  is  dying 


256  MALIGN  SPIMITUAL  INFLUENCES. 

witbout  hope ;  see  how  life  is  extinct  before  the  great  ends  of  life  are 
accomplished,  in  the  cases  of  hundreds  of  men  who  are  perhaps  better 
than  you  are.     And  judging  from  them,  what  are  your  chances? 

Consider  the  case  in  another  point  of  view.  Consider  how  the 
forces  of  God  have  died  out  in  you,  and  how  the  forces  of  evil  have 
on  the  whole  increased.  I  come  to  you  whose  hair  is  beginning  to 
be  sprinkled  with  gray,  and  I  ask  you.  Do  you  think  you  are  as  good 
a  man  as  you  were  fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago  ?  Some  of  you  will 
say  that  you  are  better.  I  know  you  are  better,  because  you  have 
been  wafted  on,  though  the  grace  of  God,  by  the  great  current  of 
moral  inspiration.  God's  Spirit  has  free  course,  and  the  tides  of  the 
heavenly  world  are  in  the  channels  of  your  soul.  But  there  are 
many  men  here  to-niglit  who  are  not  in  commerce  with  God 
or  heaven  ;  and  I  put  the  question  to  you.  Do  you  think  you  are 
as  good  as  you  were  when  you  were  twenty-one  ?  I  do  not  mean 
to  ask  whether  you  are  addicted  to  vices  that  spring  from 
over-heated  passions ;  but  are  you  harder-hearted,  are  you  softer- 
hearted,  are  you  as  lionest  and  as  honorable  in  the  matter  of  truth  and 
fidelity,  as  you  were  then  ?  Has  your  "  romance,"  as  you  were 
pleased  to  call  it,  given  place  to  the  hard,  grinding  avarice  of  life  ? 
Have  you  come  to  that  state  where  you  say,  "  Oh,  well,  I  used  to 
think  that  character,  and  disposition,  and  these  things,  were  very  im- 
portant ;  but  I  see  that  it  is  money  that  gives  foundation,  that  puts 
the  steeple  on,  and  that  gives  a  man  eminence  in  life"?  Have  you 
become  materialized  ?  How  is  it,  are  you  getting  better  or  Avorse  ? 
Are  you  more  susceptible  and  more  comprehensive  in  your  life,  more 
spiritual  in  your  prayers,  more  heaven-seeking  than  you  wei-e  ?  If 
not,  what  is  the  drift  and  course  of  your  life?  and  what  are  the 
chances  of  a  man  that  lives  as  you  do  ?  You  are  forty  years  of  age ; 
and  have  you  examined  your  own  case  ?  You  admit  that  on  the 
whole  you  have  been  growing  worse.  You  are  forty-five  years  of 
age.  On  the  whole  you  are  a  good  deal  Avorse.  You  are  fifty  years 
old.  Why,  the  stream  has  got  momentum  !  At  first  it  Avas  a  rill ; 
and  then  it  began  to  collect  side  rills  ;  and  together  they  formed  a 
rivulet ;  and  noAV  life  is  a  deep,  broad  river,  with  many  branches 
pouring  into  it.  It  has  its  course,  and  its  estuary  is  waiting  for  it ; 
and  it  is  rolling  irresistibly  doAvn  to  the  ocean.  What  are  the 
chances  for  such  a  man  ?  If  it  be  true  that  heaven  is  to  be  Avon  only 
by  faith  in  Christ ;  if  it  be  true  that  a  man  Avho  is  not  born  again 
shall  never  see  the  kingdom  of  God  ;  if  life  and  death  are  set  before 
you,  I  put  the  question  to  you,  as  I  would  put  a  question  of  business, 
What  are  your  chances  ?  and  what  right  ha\"e  you  to  suppose  that 
you  Avill  be  better  than  you  are  noAV  ;  that  you  will  CA^er  take  a  turn  j 


MALIGN  SPIRITUAL  INFLUENCES.  257 

that  you  will  ever  be  saved  ?     Might  not  many  and  many  a  man  al- 
I'eady  write  his  own  epitaph  ? 

Consider,  farther,  that  while  you  are  parleying  with  these  things, 
you  are  slain  by  your  own  household.  Consider  that  while  you  are 
making  faint  and  feeble  resistance,  the  traitor  is  inside  of  your  own 
family.  The  treacherous  servant  gets  uj)  in  the  night  and  unbars  the 
door  and  lets  the  thief  in.  You  have  a  treacherous  servant  in  you, 
that  lets  temptations  in.  It  is  the  false  and  treacherous  sentinel  that 
ojDens  the  door  and  lets  the  enemy  in.  You  have  a  betraying  senti- 
nel that  lets  into  your  soul  the  enemy.  Your  chances  are  all  against 
you ;  and  more  against  you  because  you  are  not  true  to  yourselves. 
You  are  your  own  betrayer,  and  your  own  destroyer. 

I  ask  you,  then,  whether  the  wai;nings  of  Holy  Writ  are  not 
worthy  of  instant  heed  ?  Would  you  treat  any  thing  else  as  you  do 
the  question  of  character,  the  question  of  safety,  and  the  question  of 
immortality  ?  No  man  would  allow  his  property  to  be  in  peril  by  fire. 
Every  man  goes  about  his  house  to  see  if  it  is  safe.  He  looks  even 
where  the  ashes,  as  well  as  the  fii'e,  is  placed.  Nor  will  he  retire,  often, 
without  feeling  of  the  flue,  without  examining  the  furnace,  without 
looking  into  the  fire-place,  without  seeing  where  the  very  broom  that 
swept  up  the  hearth  is  put.  And  as  if  that  were  not  enough,  he  in- 
sures his  property,  estimating  it  as  high  as  the  company  will  allow 
him  to,  that  he  may  cover  jts  whole  value  by  ample  insurance.  His 
house,  his  furniture,  his  books,  his  pictures — the  man  takes  heed  to 
these  things  that  perish  in  the  using.  Have  you  put  any  insurance 
on  your  soul  ?  Is  that  the  only  thing  that  you  consider  so  worthless 
that  you  have  made  no  provision  Avhatever  for  it  ?  Is  that  the  only 
thing  that  is  never  watched,  night  nor  day ;  that  is  never  guarded 
against  impending  mischiefs  ;  that  goes  uninsured  ?  Your  proj^erty 
— that  is  insured.  In  times  of  epidemic,  the  physician  sends  word 
through  the  neighborhood,  "  The  cholera  is  in  our  midst !"  and  he 
says  to  all  the  families,  "  Take  heed  what  you  eat ;  avoid  indigestion  ; 
avoid  all  excess  ;  avoid  unwholesome  food  and  fruit."  And  every 
parent  repeats  the  same  to  the  children  ;  and  the  children  repeat  it  to 
each  other ;  and  they  begin  to  watch  the  platter,  and  correct  their 
excessive  habits.  All  this  they  do  for  the  sake  of  the  body  that 
perishes,  and  that  death  does  not  do  much  mischief  to.  How  men 
will  reform  when  there  is  peril  in  the  air !  But  Avhen  God  says, 
"There  is  eternal  disease  and  death,"  how  few  men  heed  that,  or  take 
warning  from  it. 

That  lonely  settler  on  the  edge  of  the  forest  listens  by  night  and 
by  day  to  see  if  there  be  peril.  How  many  and  many  a  far-distant 
settler  on  the  forest's  edge  has  trained  his  ear !  how  he  has  trained 
his  eye  !     And  if  at  any  time  the  word  goes  out,  "  The  Indian  is  on 


258  MALIGN  BPiniTUAL  INFLUEWGES. 

his  war-path,"  how  does  he  instantly  abandon  all,  move  back,  carry- 
ing his  wife  and  children,  and  join  himself  to  others,  until  at  last 
they  form  a  band  strong  enough  to  make  head  against  the  coming 
danger !  Is  not  that  wise  ?  Or,  otherwhere,  the  settler  is  on  the 
edge  of  the  forest,  and  wild  beasts  are  his  constant  vexation  ;  and  the 
word  comes,  "Wolves!  wolves  are  found  preying !"  And  how  does 
he  gather  in  his  calves  and  fold  his  sheep  at  night !  How  does  he 
warn  his  children,  and  close  the  door.  How  watchful  is  he  for 
calves  and  sheep,  and  for  property  !  But  when  God  says,  "  Be  sober, 
be  vigilant.  Your  enemy  is  a  roaring  lion,  that  goeth  about,  seeking 
whom  he  may  devour,"  men  turn  it  into  jest,  and  laugh,  and  sport, 
with  quips  and  pranks  of  mirth,  and  set  aside  all  these  monitions  of 
danger. 

Now,  men  and  brethren,  it  is  not  wise.  You  are  in  danger. 
You  are  in  danger  from  society,  because  society  works  within.  You 
are  in  danger  from  the  spirit  of  bad  men.  You  are  in  danger  from 
Satan,  and  from  the  emissaries  of  mischief  throughout  the  great 
spirit-world.  You  are  environed  by  enemies ;  and  there  is  but  one  way 
of  dealing  with  them  if  you  would  escape  harm ;  and  that  is  to  "  resist  " 
them  "  in  the  faith."  There  is  a  comprehensive  release,  a  compre- 
hensive insurance.  The  man  who  has  a  vision  of  God,  and  by  faith 
has  taken  hold  upon  God;  the  man  who  has  attained  that  state  by 
which  the  divine  thought  comes  down  upon  him,  and  the  divine  feel- 
ing flows  through  his  soul,  is  safe.  That  faith  which  brings  the  life 
of  God  to  renovate  our  life,  sets  a  man  out  of  temptation,  and  out 
of  the  reach  of  its  stroke  ;  but  nothing  else  will.  And  as  long  as  you 
remain  in  the  state  of  the  natural  man,  as  long  as  you  are  without 
God  and  without  hope,  as  long  as  you  are  in  the  world,  and  of  it,  so 
long  will  you  have  an  "  adversary,  the  devil,"  going  about  like  "  a 
roaring  lion,"  "  seeking  whom  he  may  devour." 

I  beseech  of  you,  pass  not  by  these  warnings.  I  am  not  given  to 
preaching  sermons  of  alarm.  I  am  not  accustomed  to  swing  fear  as 
a  mighty  battle-ax  over  your  head.  And  yet,  sometimes,  fear  is 
wliolesome,  fear  is  rational.  And  if  there  be  any  place  where  fear 
has  a  right  to  doits  moral  work,  it  is  in  just  the  place  you  are  in  to- 
night, where  I  put  heaven  and  hell  before  you  ;  where  I  put  all  good 
and  evil  before  you ;  where  I  put  before  you  honor  and  immortality 
and  blessedness,  and  remorse  and  woe,  and  call  you  to  choose,  and 
choose  the  good,  that  your  souls  may  be  rescued  from  your  enemies, 
and  that  you  may  live  forever. 

May  God  give  you  grace  to  choose  aright,  that  when,  by  and  by, 
you  stand  in  Zion  and  before  God,  rescued  with  an  everlasting  salva- 
tion, you  may  lift  up  praise  to  Him  who  was  your  Redeemer,  who 
broke  the  bonds  of  your  captivity,  and  led  you  forth  rejoicing  in 
spite  of  your  adversaries,  and  crowned  you,  saved  forever. 


MALIGN  SPIRITUAL  mFLUENGES.  259 


PRAYER    BEFORE    THE    SERMON. 

O  LoBD  our  God,  we  have  come  into  this  world  ignorant.  Nor  have  we  yet  reached  unto 
SKOwIedge.  Of  ourselves  we  know  but  little ;  and  of  all  the  mighty  outlooking  influences  that 
bear  in  upon  us  we  know  but  little.  We  perceive  that  men,  in  spite  of  knowledge  and  of  mighty 
endeavor",  miscan-y,  and  are  coming  to  destruction  on  every  hand.  Broad  is  the  way  of  doom 
and  downfall,  and  narrow  is  the  road  of  virtue  and  of  safety.  O  Lord,  we  look  out  upon  life 
and  tremble  for  ourselves,  and  tremble  for  those  whom  we  thrust  forth — our  own  beloved.  Shall 
we  all  reach  thee  and  each  other  in  the  heavenly  land  ?  How  shall  we  cross  the  perilous  streams, 
dark  and  swollen,  that  are  carrying  so  many  away  ?  How  shall  we  pass  over  the  mighty  valleys — 
the  very  valleys  and  shadow  of  death  f  How  shall  we  resist  when  our  adversary  lurks  waiting 
to  spring  upon  us  ?  How  many  are  they  that  are  against  us  I  How  helpless  are  we,  since  we 
neither  know  their  practice,  nor  their  ways,  nor  their  times  or  seasons  I  We  are  as  little  children 
that  reach  out  feeble  hands  against  unknown  enemies,  and  contest  them  more  vrith  outcry  than 
with  strength.  We  turn  to  thee,  and  rejoice  to  hear  thee  say,  "I  am  the  way."  O  Jesus, 
we  desire  to  walk  upon  that  sacred  way,  not  cast  up,  but  lifted  up.  We  look  unto  thee  as  the 
Author  and  the  Finisher  of  our  faith.  We  look  unto  thee,  and  to  thine  example,  for  steadfastness, 
for  direction,  for  all  duty,  for  faith  and  hope,  for  love  itself  in  the  soul. 

O  thou  All-Lover,  breathe  the  breath  of  love  upon  us,  and  renew  our  life  within  us,  that, 
above  all  that  which  belongs  to  the  natural  man,  and  above  all  that  which  is  secular,  there  may 
arise  that  sacred  life  which  no  power  can  suppress,  which  no  temptation  can  blow  out,  which 
nothing  can  destroy,  which,  coming  from  God,  is  of  God,  and,  like  him,  is  eternal  and  eternally 
blessed.  Give  to  us  that  new  life  in  the  soul,  by  faith  of  the  Son  of  God,  that  our  life  may  be  hid 
with  Christ  in  God.  And  if  that  life  is  begun  in  any,  though  it  be  but  as  a  spark,  O  grant,  in 
Infinite  tenderness  and  watchful  care,  that  it  may  be  sheltered ;  and  from  this  faint  beginning, 
scarcely  enough  to  cast  out  the  pale  gleams  of  light,  O  may  there  come  more  and  more  of  the 
flame  and  warmth,  shining  brighter  and  brighter  unto  the  perfect  day. 

If  there  be  any  that  are  fainting,  who  thought  they  had  begun  to  live,  and  are  thrown  as  into 
a  dream  and  a  doubt,  O  appear  to  them,  blessed  Saviour.  Walk  with  them  and  talk  with  them 
who  think  that  thou  art  dead  and  gone  from  them,  and  interpret  all  the  Scripture  to  them,  and 
Bay  to  their  amazed  and  rejoicing  vision,  "  Peace  be  with  you." 

Are  there  those  who  know  that  they  live,  and  live  but  poorly,  and  long  for  higher 
knowledge,  and  for  truer  experience,  and  for  more  success  and  victory  in  overcoming  what 
remains  of  evil  in  them?  Guard  thou  them,  and  grant  that  as  they  hunger  and  thirst  after 
righteousness  thy  promises  may  be  fulfilled. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  if  there  be  those  who  are  looking  on,  scarcely  caring,  in  the 
gall  of  bitterness  and  in  the  bonds  of  iniquity,  there  may  spring  up  in  them  some  desires  to-night 
to  turn  away  from  evil  and  to  take  hold  on  good.  Hast  thou  not  here  some  to  be  gathered  in 
to-night  ?  O  Spirit  of  the  living  God,  from  whom  hath  come  forth  the  truth  that  is  in  the  world, 
hast  thou  not  here  to-night  some  power  to  be  disclosed,  some  wanderer  to  turn  back  toward  the 
Shepherd  and  the  Bishop  of  his  soul  ?  Is  there  no  enemy  of  thine  to  be  slain,  that  he  may  be 
brought  into  glorious  life  again  ? 

We  beseech  of  thee  to  look  with  compassion  upon  every  one  in  thy  presence,  and  do  as 
Beemeth  good  to  thee  unto  every  one.  Our  heart's  desire  is  toward  thee  and  toward  thine ;  and 
we  pray  that  men  may  not  cast  themselves  away,  nor  count  themselves  unworthy  of  eternal  life. 
Reclaim  those  that  are  out  of  the  way.  Help  those  that  are  in  peril.  Deliver  those  that  are 
thraUed  and  tempted.  Show  the  lost  the  way  back  again.  Inspire  hope  in  hearts  that  have  long 
ago  ceased  to  hope  for  good.    Unbind  those  whom  habits  have  bound.    Give  sight  to  those  who 


260  MALIGN  SPIRITUAL  INFLUENCES. 

have  been  blinded  by  passion  and  by  sin.  Bring  to  life  again  those  that  are  dead  In  trespasses 
and  in  sins.  Glorify  thy  name,  and  manifest  thy  power,  and  gladden  the  hearts  of  thy  people, 
and  fill  the  whole  church  with  occasion  for  thanksgiving  and  ^atnlation. 

O  Lord,  we  mark  the  declining  days.  They  grow  shorter  and  shorter.  Are  not  our  days, 
too,  growing  shorter  ?  Is  not  the  night,  is  not  the  darkness,  lengthening  1  Grant  that  we  may 
take  wisdom  even  from  the  aspects  of  nature.  May  we  become  sobered  and  thoughtful — we  that 
can  not  live  much  longer ;  such  of  us  as  have  nearly  fulfilled  our  circuit  (and  who  shall  exempt 
himself  from  that  number  ?)  How  near  are  we  aU  to  that  house  built  of  clay  1  How  near  are 
we,  O  God,  to  death,  to  eternity,  and  to  thee !  Awaken  us.  Let  thy  Spirit  mightily  bear  in 
upon  us  the  sacred  truths  of  thy  word.  And  may  this  night  be  not  only  a  time  of  sowing  seed, 
but  of  reaping  as  well.  And  may  many  souls  be  brought  toward  thee,  and  to  thee. 
And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise.  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Amen. 


xvn. 
THE  OLD  AND  THE  NEW. 


4 


THE    OLD    AND    THE    NEW. 


SUNDAY  EVENING,  JANUARY  3,  1869. 


"  And  for  this  cause  he  is  the  mediator  of  the  new  testament,  that  by  means  of 
death,  for  the  redemption  of  the  transgressions  that  were  under  the  first  testa- 
ment, they  which  are  called  might  receive  the  promise  of  eternal  inheritance." — 
Heb.  ix.  15. 


Here  there  is  a  contrast  between  the  Old  and  the  New  Testaments 
of  God.  This  contrast  is  not  incidental.  It  was  a  part  of  the  mission 
of  the  apostles  not  to  transfer  the  allegiance  of  the  Jews  from  one 
god  to  another,  but  to  teach  them  how  to  serve  the  same  God  in  a 
higher  dispensation,  under  a  noble  disclosure  of  his  character  and  at- 
tributes by  new  and  better  methods.  It  was  to  be  the  same  heart 
and  the  same  God ;  but  there  was  a  new  and  living  way  opened. 
The  Old  was  good  ;  the  New  was  better.  The  New  was  not  an  antag- 
onism of  the  Old,  but  only  its  outgrowth,  related  to  it  as  the  blossom 
and  the  fruit  are  to  the  root  and  the  stalk.  We  could  scarcely  con- 
ceive of  Christianity  as  a  system  developed  in  this  world,  if  it  had 
not  been  preceded  by  the  Mosaic  economy — by  the  whole  teaching 
of  the  Old  Testament. 

There  are  striking  diiferences  between  the  Old  and  the  New ;  but 
no  opposition.  The  Old  was  local  and  national  in  its  prime  intents, 
and  in  its  results.  The  New  was  for  all  ages.  It  is  true  that  the 
seeds  of  truth  in  the  Old  Testament  had  their  adaptations,  and  that 
there  were  possibilities  of  a  universal  application,  under  the  genius 
of  the  system.  And  the  general  effects  of  the  system  were  to  j^roduce 
national  character.  It  was  religion  developed  for  the  Jew.  The 
New  Testament  dispensation,  the  New  Testament  of  Christ  Jesus, 
was  for  mankind.  There  was  to  be  neither  Jew  nor  gentile ;  neither 
bond  nor  free;  neither  male  nor  female.  All  were  to  be  one  in 
Christ. 

Lesson:  Heb.  xiii.  &-16.    Hymns  (Plymouth  Collection) :  Nos.  666, 1272, 1237. 


262  THE  OLD  AI^D    THE  NEW. 

The  Old  was  a  system  of  practices.  It  aimed  at  conduct — of  course 
implying  a  good  cause  for  conduct.  The  New  is  a  system  of  principles ; 
and  yet,  not  jDrinciples  in  a  rigid  philosophical  sense,  but  principles 
that  are  great  moral  impulses  or  tendencies  of  the  heart.  I  do  not 
mean  that  the  Old  Testament  had  no  principles,  hut  that  these  were 
not  its  characteristic.  They  were  incidental.  It  was,  "  Do  this,  and 
live ;"  or,  "  Disobey,  and  die,"  It  Avas  a  system  of  rules  and  regu- 
lations adai^ted  admirably  for  certain  specific  results  which  were 
attained,  but  not  broadly  adapted  to  the  ultimate  wants  of  the 
whole  developed  race.  For  a  system  of  practices  is  never  flexible, 
and  therefore  not  adaptable.  Ordinances  Avhich  fit  one  age  and  one 
race,  on  that  very  account  can  not  fit  another  age  and  another  race. 
Principles  are  infinitely  flexible.  Retaining  the  same  heart,  they  are 
suscej)tible  of  a  hundred  difierent  developments,  plastic  and  movable. 
Principles  are  adapted  to  the  universal  need.  Ordinances,  forms, 
methods,  rules,  practices,  must  of  necessity  be  manacles  for  a  time, 
to  those  that  wear  them ;  and  they  must  be  disiDOSSessed  and  broken 
to  pieces,  if  the  world  is  to  go  on  and  grow.  The  Old  Testament 
was  not  altogether  bound  up  in  ordinances  nor  in  types,  nor  in  sacri- 
fices ;  but  still,  these  were  the  central  elements. 

The  Old  built  men  for  this  world.  Therefore  it  hardly  looked  be- 
yond this  world.  It  is  mournful  to  see  how  death  was  regarded  as 
the  end  ;  as  the  dark  slumberous  chamber ;  as  the  final  extinction  of 
hope  and  life.  I  do  not  mean  that  there  were  not  traces  in  the 
Old  Testament  of  tie  dawning  doctrine  of  futurity  and  immortal- 
ity ;  but  certainly  it  was  no  part  of  the  Mosaic  economy.  It  never 
was  employed  as  a  sanction,  nor  as  a  motive.  It  fell  out  inci- 
dentally, as  it  were,  like  some  poetic  flash,  or  some  divine  inspira- 
tion, as  the  experience  of  a  devotee  or  of  a  prophet.  But  in  the 
formal  and  methodized  work  in  which  the  nation  were  to  be  trained, 
the  great  power  which  Christianity  has  was  utterly  ignored.  The 
whole  force  of  the  New  dispensation,  or  Testament,  is  derived  from 
that  which  scarcely  appeared  at  all  in  the  Old — its  supereminent 
doctrine  of  the  future.  That  is  its  very  enginery.  The  aims  of 
Christianity  are  supi'amundane.  The  motives  are  drawn  from  im- 
mortality— its  joys,  its  honors,  its  promises,  its  rewards.  The  fervor 
of  the  apostle  scarcely  deigned,  except  incidentally,  to  refer  to  earthly 
fruitions  and  enjoyments.  Not  that  the  New  Testament  utterly  dis- 
cards these  things ;  not  that  it  is  silent  in  respect  to  them  ;  but  the 
genius  of  the  New  Testament  is  in  the  future,  looking  on,  looking 
up,  looking  forward,  looking  ever  beyond  this  present  state  of  exis- 
tence. 

The  Old  addressed  the  conscience  through  fear,  and  soon   over- 
reached its  aim,  losing  some  by  under-action,  and  others — and  the 


TEE   OLD   AND    THE  NEW.  263 

better  natures — by  over-actiou.  "What  the  law  could  not  do,  in  that  it 
was  weak,  it  is  declared,  God  sent  his  own  Son  to  do.  The  law  was 
found  impotent  to  reach  beyond  a  certain  point  of  development  in 
human  experience.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said  to  have  been  scarcely  more 
than  a  secular  polity.  It  fitted  men  to  be  virtuous  in  this  life.  It 
taught  them  to  fulfill  their  civic  duties.  It  set  up  before  them,  to  be 
sure,  a  God  to  be  worshiped  and  to  be  obeyed ;  but  the  fruit  was  to 
be  seen  in  this  mortal  state,  in  character,  in  conduct,  and  in  condition. 
The  New  aims  at  the  very  springs  of  moral  power  in  the  soul,  and 
that  through  love.  It  is  a  total  change,  it  is  an  absolute  difference, 
in  this  regard.  I  do  not  mean  that  the  love-principle  was  left  out  in  the 
Old  Testament ;  but  it  was  not  the  characteristic  and  working  prin- 
ciple. I  do  not  mean  that  fear  was  not  known  in  the  N"ew  Testa- 
ment. In  the  vast  choral  harmony,  you  now  and  then  hear  the  thun- 
derous undertones  of  fear ;  but,  after  all,  we  are  to  be  saved  by  the 
power  of  love,  and  not  by  the  impulsion  of  fear.  This  is  the  peculiar 
element  of  Christianity — that  it  appeals  to  love,  and  teaches  it  to 
predominate  over  all  other  powers,  and  holds  all  other  elements  in 
subjection  to  it.  It  is  that  faith  which  works  by  love  that  is  to  save 
the  soul. 

The  Old  sought  to  build  up  around  the  man  jjhysical  helps.  It 
was  a  system  of  crutches  and  canes.  It  was  as  a  nursery  to  teach 
children  to  walk,  with  all  appliances  to  hold  up  their  feeble  and 
trembling  limbs.  As  a  religious  system  of  education,  it  was  purely 
physical  and  artificial — full  of  symbols  and  ordinances.  It  taught 
men  how  to  use  their  senses  so  as  to  find  out  something  supersensu- 
ous.  It  taught  them  through  bodily  organs  and  agencies  to  rise  above 
the  body  a  little  way ;  which  was  the  best,  probably,  that  could  then 
have  been  done  for  man.  But  the  New,  counting  tliat  the  time  has 
come  for  something  higher  and  better  than  this,  strikes  straight  for 
character,  by  the  force  of  a  man's  own  will.  It  is  the  power  of  the 
inward  mau  that  is  evermore  appealed  to — the  new  maa  :  not  the  new 
man  alone  ;  but  the  new  man  enlightened  and  inspired  by  the  Spirit 
of  God,  and  made  mighty  for  all  change  and  for  all  acquisition. 
"Wliile  the  Old  taught  men  how  to  observe  days  and  months,  how  to 
maintain  signs  and  symbols,  how  through  types  and  shadows  to  dis 
cern  substances,  the  New  brushes  all  these  away,  and  says,  "  Neither 
in  this  mountain,  nor  yet  in  Jerusalem  ;  not  in  any  consecrated  place, 
nor  in  any  particular  place,  but  anywhere  and  everywhere,  every  man 
may  be  his  own  priest,  and  stand  worshiping  God,  and  call  him 
Father:'' 

The  Old  Testament  was  not  wholly  without  its  natural  religion. 
Indeed,  the  most  eminent  natural  religion  that  can  be  found  in  litera- 
ture is  that  which  is  contained  in  the  recorded  piety  of  the  Old  Testa- 


264:  THE   OLD  AND    TEE  NEW. 

ment.  We  have  not  yet  in  our  times  advanced  anywhere  near  so 
far  as  the  prophets  and  the  sweet  singer  of  Israel  had  advanced,  or  as 
the  Hebrew  mind  had  advanced,  to  whom  nature  itself  was  one  vast 
symbolism  ;  to  whom  storms,  and  seasons,  and  mountains,  and  plains, 
and  rivers,  and  seas,  and  day  and  night,  the  processions  of  nature, 
were  all  mighty  symbols  significant  of  certain  great  truths  behind 
them.  There  was  a  vast  store  of  natural  religion  held  up  in  the  Old 
Testament,  so  that  over  and  above  the  sj^ecialties  of  the  temple  and 
of  the  Mosaic  economy,  there  was  a  larger  spirit  of  worship.  Never- 
theless, the  system  was  characterized  by  ordinances.  And  every 
system  that  multiplies  ordinances,  every  system  that  runs  after  rites 
and  ceremonies,  runs  back  to  Judaism — that  is,  runs  back  to  child- 
hood. It  is  not  a  question  as  to  whether  men  may  or  not.  Certainly 
they  may.  May  not  men  Avrite  their  prayers,  and  recite  them  ? 
May  not  men  make  their  services  to  consist  in  elaborate  ceremonials  ? 
Certainly  they  may.  There  is  no  law  that  prevents  adults  wearing 
babies'  clothes.  There  is  no  law  that  prevents  a  man's  going  back  to 
his  spelling-book.  There  is  no  law  that  prevents  a  man's  gamboling 
again  in  the  street,  just  as  he  did  when  he  was  six  years  old.  Men 
may  become  children.  Men  may  be  children  in  social  and  in  fiscal 
matters  ;  and  they  may  be  children  in  matters  of  religion.  When 
eagles  are  once  hatched,  they  remain  eagles.  It  is  men  that,  having 
been  hatched,  try  to  go  back  again  into  the  egg — and  a  sorry  busi- 
ness they  make  of  it ! 

With  a  far  lower  aim  in  character,  the  Old  kept  men  in  bondage. 
With  immeasurably  higher  aim  and  larger  requisition,  the  New  yields 
liberty.  It  would  seem  as  though  if  there  were  less  to  do,  and  it 
were  easier  of  attainment,  there  would  be  greater  freedom,  and  as 
though  if  you  multiplied  tasks,  and  set  higher  standards,  and  in- 
creased the  force  of  motives,  men  would  lag  behind.  But  it  comes  to 
pass  the  other  way.  For  no  men  were  ever  so  much  in  bondage  as 
those  who  attempted  to  perfect  manhood  under  the  old  ritualistic  sys- 
tem ;  and  no  men  are  so  free  as  those  who  attempt  manhood  under 
the  spiritual  system  of  the  New  Testament.  Yea,  no  men  among 
those  of  the  New  Testament  are  so  free  as  those  whose  idea  of  man- 
hood is  the  amplest.  No  man  is  so  free  as  he  that  aims  the  highest. 
It  is  a  simple  and  absolute  natural  law,  as  I  believe,  that  bondage 
goes  Avith  the  basilar  faculties,  and  that  liberty  goes  with  the  moral 
sentiments.  It  is  a  part  of  the  genius,  I  will  not  say  of  Christianity, 
except  as  Christianity  is  a  part  of  God's  universal  nature,  but  of 
creation ;  it  is  a  part  of  the  peculiar  development  of  God's  thought 
in  the  human  constitution,  that  if  you  live  by  the  use  of  the  reason 
and  the  higher  moral  sentiments,  through  faith  and  hope  and  love, 
you  live  in  the  realm  and  by  faculties  whose  essential  nature  it  is  to 


THE   OLD   AND    TEE  NEW.  265 

work  out  liberty.  Your  idea  comes  by  faith,  and  your  attainment 
still  lags,  as  under  any  system  it  will ;  yet,  after  all,  the  spirit  has  the 
very  remuneration  and  the  very  atmosphere  of  liberty.  No  man  is 
fi*ee  but  he  who  lives  in  the  very  highest  realms  of  religious  life. 
As  a  man  goes  down  toward  the  lower  and  economic  faculties,  and 
as  he  goes  down  through  these  to  the  passions  and  appetites, 
and  says  to  them,  "  Ye  are  our  god,"  more  and  more  he  goes  down 
in  circumscription ;  more  and  more  he  is  limited  ;  and  more  and  more 
he  works  toward  bondage.  Bondage  is  of  the  flesh,  and  liberty  is  of 
the  spirit. 

The  Old  was  a  dispensation  of  secular  morals.  It  lived  in  the 
past.  The  New  is  a  system  of  aspirations.  It  lives  in  the  future. 
The  Old  said,  "  Remember  all  the  way  in  which  the  Lord  hath  led 
thee."  It  recited  law  and  ordinance  and  government.  It  chanted,  in 
the  sublime  strains  either  of  the  singer  or  of  the  prophet,  the  national 
history  of  deliverances.  The  New  says,  "  Forgetting  the  things 
that  are  behind,  press  forward  toward  those  things  which  are  be- 
fore." The  Old  said,  "Rising  up  or  sitting  down, teach  your  children 
God's  mighty  acts."  The  New  says,  "  Set  your  affections  on  things 
above.     Go  out,  and  up,  and  beyond." 

The  Old  was  a  system,  therefore,  in  which  men  remembered,  and 
the  New  is  a  system  in  which  men  aspire.  Not  that  there  was  not 
aspiration  in  the  Old — dawnings  of  it,  elements  of  it,  collateral  and 
incidental ;  but  the  working  forae  was  not  that.  Not  tliat  there  are 
not  in  the  New  Testament  the  elements  also  of  consideration,  of  re- 
flection ;  not  that  there  is  not  to  be  memory  of  past  experiences 
and  past  deeds ;  but  that  the  characteristic  drift  and  inspiration  of 
the  New  Testament  is  toward  the  future.. 

It  is  a  system  vitalizing  and  life-giving.  It  does  not  take  so  much 
accoiint  of  the  gi'anary  as  it  does  of  the  sowing  of  the  seed.  It  is 
not  the  reaping  that  it  emphasizes:  it  is  the  harvesting. 

The  Old,  I  might  say,  had  a  muffled  God.  Sinai,  all  in  robes  of 
darkness,  the  earth  shaking,  thunders  and  trumpets,  a  voice  of  terror, 
a  God  invisible,  commencing  with  his  priest  or  servant  Moses  —  that 
is  the  God  of  the  Old  Testament.  Jesus,  lifted  up  before  all  the 
people,  a  sufferer  for  others,  pure  himself,  and  without  spot,  pouring 
his  life  out  freely,  that  the  whole  world  might  have  life,  with  clear 
features  lifted  up  against  the  sky,  that  all  men  might  see  him — he  is 
the  visibl-e  God  of  the  New  Testament.  The  Old  Testament  Avas 
God  hidden ;  and  the  New  Testament  is  God  made  known  through 
Jesus  Christ — a  living  force  :  not  an  idea,  not  an  imagination,  cei'- 
tainly  not  an  abstraction,  but  a  living  force.  You  will  recollect  how 
much  emphasis  is  put  upon  the  thought  of  a  living  God.  Pie  is  the 
living  Head^  he  is  the  living  Wag,  as  we  are  told.     It  is  not  a  God 


266  THE  OLD   AND    THE  FEW. 

that  is  concealed,  it  is  not  a  God  that  we  draw  near  to  through  types 
and  ordinances  and  shadows :  it  is  the  actual  revelation  of  a  God 
with  whom  we  may  hold  personal  communion ;  to  whom  tlie  heart 
finds  its  way;  on  whose  bosom  it  rests  ;  with  whom  it  speaks.  It  is 
a  living  Saviour,  companionable,  communicable,  evei'-present. 

We  are  the  children  of  the  New  Testament,  and  not  of  the  Old. 
Woe  be  to  us  if,  living  in  these  later  days,  we  find  ourselves  groping 
in  the  imperfections  of  the  Old  Testament,  instead  of  springing  up 
with  all  the  vitality  and  supereminent  manhood  which  belongs  to  the 
New  Testament.  We  are  the  children  of  a  living  Saviour.  We  are 
a  brood  over  which  he  stretches  his  wings.  He  is  our  Brother,  he  is 
our  elder  Brother,  he  is  our  Saviour,  and  our  Deliverer,  and  our  ever- 
lasting Friend. 

We  ought  to  have  more  than  a  creed  which  is  only  a  modern  re- 
presentation of  an  old  ordinance  or  institution.  We  ought  to  have 
something  more  than  an  ordinance.  We  are  not  Christians  because 
we  keep  the  Sabbath  day,  nor  because  we  pray,  nor  because  we  read 
the  Bible,  nor  because  we  perform  duties.  They  are  Christians 
through  Avhose  soul  is  struck  tliat  vitalizing  influence  by  which  the 
soul  says,  "  Father,"  and  beholds  God.  To  be  a  disciple  of  the  New 
Testament  is  to  have  a  living  Head.  It  is  to  have  a  vital  connection 
with  that  Head.  It  is  to  be  conscious,  while  all  nature  speaks  of 
God,  and  while  all  the  exercises  of  religion  assist  indirectly,  that  the 
main  power  of  a  true  religion  in  the  soul  is  the  soul's  connection 
with  a  living  God. 

Is  there  such  a  connection  in  you  ?  You  would  scorn  the  imputa- 
tion of  being  Jews,  and  Mosaic  Jews.  I  would  that  some  of  you 
were  as  good.  You  would,  scorn  going  back  to  the  cast-off  rubbish 
of  those  far-oflT  days;  and  yet  they  are  all  of  them  shadows  of  your 
beliefs.  In  what  respect  do  you  differ  from  those  of  the  old  dispen- 
sation, if  there  is  to  you  no  personal  Saviour,  no  absolute  communica- 
tion between  your  soul  and  God  ?  If  all  that  you  get,  you  get  by 
the  direct  influence  of  Christianity  through  society,  society  stands 
for  you  as  the  temple  and  the  ritualistic  system  stood  for  them.  It 
was  the  peculiarity  of  the  Jewish  dispensation  that  instead  of  a 
direct  approach  to  God,  they  came  through  ordinances,  and  tlirough 
governments,  and  through  ministers ;  and  if  you  come  to  morality 
only  through  the  household  and  through  civil  customs  and  society 
relations,  in  what  respect  are  you  different  from  them  ?  With  a  dif- 
ferent national  name,  you  stand  religiously  under  the  same  system. 
But  if  you  are  more  than  that,  if  you  have  grown  out  of  your  child- 
hood, and  you  stand  in  the  full  manhood  of  modern  days,  it  is  not 
because  you  have  left  these  things  behind  you,  suffering  them  to  do 


THE  OLD   AND    TEE  NEW.  267 

what  they  may,  but  because  there  is  characteristically  in  you  this 
power  of  a  living  faith  in  a  living  Saviour. 

Have  you  that  faith  ?  Do  you  live  by  faith  of  the  Son  of  God, 
who  loved  you,  and  gave  himself  for  you  ?  Then  are  you  the  disci- 
ples of  the  New,  and  not  the  followers  of  the  Old.  Is  .your  life  for 
the  secular  present,  or  for  a  glorious  future  ?  The  Jew  lived  to  be 
moral,  and  therefore  to  hold  possessions ;  to  see  his  household  mul- 
tiply about  him;  to  have  the  blessing  of  his  father's  God  bestowed 
upon  him.  That  was  the  sanction  and  the  promise  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment dispensation.  But  the  New  goes  beyond  that.  It  promises  us 
the  hereafter. 

Are  all  your  aims  and  ambitions  then  centered  in  this  earthly- 
horizon  ?  Are  you  living  for  this  world ;  for  its  gifts  and  goods ;  for 
its  friendships  and  joys;  for  its  ambitions  and  its  power;  for  its 
pleasures  ?  Are  these  the  whole  ?  Is  the  world  clear  and  vivid  "t 
and  is  the  horizon-line  the  end  of  any  thing  distinct  ?  and  is  all  that 
is  beyond  nebulous,  vague,  something  yet  to  be  revealed  ?  Or,  is  hea- 
ven clear  ?  is  God  real  ?  is  the  future  the  sphere  in  which  your 
thoughts  move?  If  ye  are  the  disciples  of  the  New,  your  life  lies  in 
the  future — not  in  the  past,  nor  even  in  the  present.  If  your  life  is  in 
the  present,  and  in  these  lower  things,  then  ye  are  yet  the  disciples 
of  the  Old,  and  not  of  the  New. 

Do  you  still  aim  at  conduct,  or  is  it  character  after  which  you 
strive  ?  It  was  conduct  that  belonged  to  the  Old  dispensation  ;  and 
through  that,  character  was  to  be  wrought  out.  In  the  New  dispen- 
sation, it  is  character  that  is  to  be  wrought  out ;  and  conduct  is  to  flow 
from  that.  Conduct  is  to  be  spontaneous.  When  a  man's  heart  is 
right,  he  will  let  go  every  thing  else.  Then  conduct  will  always  go 
right.  Are  you  living  under  certain  schemes  of  moral  excellence  ? 
Or  have  you  the  conception  of  a  Christian  manhood  ?  Is  this  the 
glowing  ambition  ?  Is  this  the  earnest  desire  ?  Is  this  the  daily 
strife  ? 

Standing,  as  we  do,  on  the  first  Sunday  of  the  year,  I  have  been 
led  into  this  train  of  thought,  I  suppose,  by  a  sort  of  fugitive  analogy 
between  the  Old  and  the  New  as  represented  by  the  departed  year 
and  the  coming  year.  I  know  not  by  what  other  suggestion  I  fell 
upon  it.  I  am  moved  to  speak  to  you  to-night,  if  I  can,  with  some 
motive,  some  propelling  power  toward  the  future. 

I  can  not  bear,  myself,  to  go  into  the  coming  year  just  as  I  came 
out  of  the  old  one.  I  would  fain  believe  each  year  to  be  a  mother, 
and  that  I  am  born  into  the  next  year,  that  I  may,  as  it  were,  with 
renewed  childhood,  have  a  fresh  start,  and  go  forward  with  the  expe- 
rience and  the  strength  of  the  past  year.  I  would  fain  believe  that  I 
might  take  a  new  life,  as  it  were,  each  year.     In  my  fraternal  i-elations 


268  THE   OLD   AKD    TEE  NEW. 

to  you,  I  fain  would  have  your  companionship  in  entering  upon  this 
new  year,  upon  whose  threshold  we  stand — only  three  days  of  which 
hare  elapsed.  I  fain  would  have  you,  in  the  spirit  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, look  forward,  cast  your  life  forward,  and  take  all  those  steps 
of  purpose  and  inspired  will,  which  shall  lead  you  to  greater  eminence 
in  the  year  that  is  to  come,  than  you  have  attained  in  the  year  that 
is  passed.     Let  me  help  you,  therefore,  somewhat. 

Since  chai-actev  is  not  a  stationary  thing,  since  it  is  a  thing  of 
endless  growth,  is  not  this  beginning  of  the  year  the  time,  and  a  fit 
time,  for  us  to  review  our  character  with  reference  to  the  future  ? 
Ought  we  to  be  content  with  our  style  of  character?  To  say  the 
truth  plainly,  I  am  not  content  with  mine.  I  am  not  content  with 
the  width  of  it,  with  the  strength  of  it,  or  with  the  qualities  of  it.  I 
have  lived  all  day  in  a  glorious  discontent.  I  fiin  would  bring 
something  better  than  that  which  I  do  bring  to  Him  whom  I  know  I 
love,  and  who  knows  that  I  love  Him.  I  fain  would  bring  a  higher 
thought,  a  clearer  purpose.  Above  all,  I  would  bring  a  character 
whose  essential  motive  powers  are  higher  than  mine  have  been.  I 
know  that  I  have  felt  the  grace  of  God  in  my  heart ;  but  alas !  it 
seems  as  though  God's  grace  were  but  a  Columbus  in  my  heart,  that 
touched  the  edge,  the  shore  here  and  there,  and  left  the  vast  conti- 
nent within  almost  unexplored — certainly  unsubdued  and  untilled. 
Single  spots,  single  places,  there  are,  where  something  has  been  sown, 
and  something  reared,  and  something  reaped ;  but  oh !  how  little 
training  has  there  been  in  each  separate  faculty  !  and  hoAV  little  com- 
bination in  those  ficulties  that  have  been  trained  !  and  how  much  of 
my  character  lies  as  a  shadow  on  this  lower  sphere  !  How  little  of  it 
is  like  the  white  cloud  that  vanishes  upward !  How  little  is  there  in 
me  that  is  divine  and  spiritual !  Above  all  other  dispositions,  I  know 
that  I  am  deficient  in  love.  It  is  that  which  subdues  that  marks  the 
power  of  love  ;  and  when  I  look  to  see  whether  pride  is  stronger 
than  love,  it  is  a  doubtful  conflict.  When  I  ask  myself  whether  self- 
seeking,  self-indulgence,  self-consciousness  and  selfishness  itself,  have 
been  eradicated  or  even  mainly  subdued,  by  the  power  of  love,  I 
can  not  say  that  they  have  been.  And  therefore  I  am  not  content. 
I  am  not  content  when  I  think  of  the  generosities  and  magnanimities 
of  which  my  life  should  perpetually  speak,  as  a  band  of  music  speaks 
sweet  notes,  stretching  them  far  out  through  the  air. 

I  am  not  content  with  my  official  life  among  you.  It  is  more 
meagre,  it  is  more  barren  than  I  would  have  it.  By  this  I  do  not 
mean  merely  that  I  do  not  preach  as  well  as  I  would — though  I  do 
not ;  or  that  I  do  not  exert  as  much  or  as  noble  influence  as  I  would 
— though  that  is  true.  I  try  to  preach,  and  I  do  preach,  as  well  as  I 
can,  unless  I  am  a  better  man.     There  is  the  trouble.     It  is  the  want 


TUB   OLD   AXD    THE  NEW.  269 

of  essential  grace  aud  goodness.  It  is  the  want  of  a  higher  type  of 
spiritual  life.  It  is  the  want  of  depth.  It  is  the  want  of  power.  It 
is,  in  short,  the  want  of  grace  in  me,  the  hope  of  glory.  I  should 
preach  better^  and  work  more  effectually,  if  I  had  more  of  that.  I  am 
not  content. 

How  is  it  with  you,  my  Christian  brother  ?  How  is  it  with  you, 
my  Christian  sister  ?  Are  you  content  with  the  character  which  you 
brought  out  of  the  old  year,  and  with  which  you  are  setting  forward 
upon  the  new  year  ?  How  is  it  in  this  matchless  element,  in  this 
very  divinity  of  love,  that  subdues  all  the  mind,  and  brings  it  into  a 
sweet  submission  to  God  ?     Have  you  enough  of  it  ? 

Is  not  this,  then,  a  time  for  you  to  review  your  character,  and 
see  what  are  the  elements  of  it,  how  you  are  shaping  it,  what  you 
mean  by  it,  and  what  you  have  obtained  thus  far  ?  Is  it  not  a  time 
for  you  to  look  into  the  future  ?  No  matter  how  old  you  are,  it  is  not 
too  late  for  you  to  learn  in  the  school  of  Christ,  surely.  And  it  is  a 
noble  ambition  with  which  you  should  begin  the  year — not  to  swell 
your  coffers,  not  to  have  more  of  this  world's  good,  (though  that  you 
may  have  also,)  but  to  begin  the  year  chiefly  with  the  ambition  to  be 
more  like  Christ,  and  to  have  the  power  of  God  resting  upon  you, 
and  to  know  the  will  of  God,  and  so  to  live  that  whosoever  meets 
you  shall  know  that  you  have  been  with  Christ. 

Out  of  this  spirit  what  blessings  will  flow !  Oh !  if  you  were 
holier,  how  much  happier  would  you  be !  Oh  !  if  you  were  holier,  how 
would  fall  down  from  you  straightway  those  discontents,  and  those 
cares,  and  those  frets,  and  those  ill-wills,  and  those  thousand 
torments  which  so  much  have  snared  you,  and  so  much  have  marred 
your  enjoyment  in  the  days  that  are  past!  It  is  because  you  are 
not  good,  that  you  are  not  happy.  For  he  that  dwells  in  the  secret 
of  the  Almighty,  he  that  lives  as  in  the  very  presence  of  Christ,  can 
say,  "  My  Master  hath  said,  I  will  never  leave  thee,  nor  forsake  thee, 
so  that  I  can  boldly  cry,  the  Lord  is  my  helper,  and  I  will  not  fear 
what  man  shall  do  unto  me." 

Is  it  not  a  time,  on  the  threshold  of  this  new  year,  for  you  to 
renew,  with  vigor,  the  special  educations  which  belong  to  every 
Christian  character?  Is  it  not  a  time  that  you  should  renew  in  your- 
self a  distinct  understanding  of  those  faculties  which  are  to  be  trained, 
to  be  bridled  ? 

How  seldom  does  a  man  say  to  himself,  "  I  am  a  thoroughly 
proud  man"  ;  and  how  seldom  does  any  body,  not  in  anger,  say  it  to 
him !  And  in  anger  the  truth  is  usually  destroyed,  so  that  it  falls 
powerless.  Your  friend  scarcely  will  say  it.  Since  our  mother  died, 
we  have  no  friend  that  dare  tell  us  our  faults.  We  have  none  that 
are  enough  interested  in  us  to  balance  them  and  to  know  them.    "We 


270  THE   OLD   AND    TEE  NEW. 

have  none  that  can  si:)eak  to  us  from  above,  down  through  the  rosy 
air  of  love,  so  that  it  is  not  through  harm  but  good  that  Avhat  is  ad- 
dressed to  us  is  spoken.  Our  faults  are  shot  over  at  us  as  bombs 
are  shot  at  forts.  Men  explode  their  advice  at  us  hatefully  ;  and 
we  defend  ourselves.  And  so  men  are  hard,  and  will  not  permit 
themselves  to  be  other  than  hard.  And  they  defend  their  hardness  ; 
because  it  is  a  point  of  attack,  and  must  be  a  point  of  defence. 

Who  says  to  you,  "  You  have  grown  selfish  as  you  have  grown 
rich  "  ?  Who  says  to  you,  "  You  have  become  excessively  vain  "  ? 
Who  says  to  you,  "  You  are  by  excess  becoming  sordid  "  ?  Who 
says  to  you,  "  The  generosity  of  your  youth  is  evaporating  like  the 
morning  dew,  and  you  are  growing  up  into  life  with  a  coarse  strength, 
and  not  with  a  fine  strength  "  ?  Who  measures,  who  explores,  and 
who  makes  known  to  us  our  faults  ? 

We  may  go  to  our  physician,  and  he  can  examine  the  lungs  and 
sound  the  chest,  and  report  their  condition  ;  he  can  tell  us  the  state 
of  the  heart ;  he  can  tell  us  the  condition  of  our  whole  nervoiis  sys- 
tem. But  where  is  the  physician  that  can  make  an  examination  of  the 
spiritual  man,  and  give  us  a  diagnosis  of  our  spiritual  life?  If  it  is 
done,  must  it  not  be  done  by  ourselves  ?  And  is  there  any  other  time 
when  a  man  should  apply  himself  to  this  work  with  so  much  vigor  as 
upon  the  very  threshold  of  the  year  ? 

You  have  this  year  before  you.  Do  you  want  to  know  the  truth 
about  yourself?  Do  you  Avant  to  feel  the  whole  weight  and  impor- 
tance of  the  truth?  If  a  man  could  enter  into  the  secret  chamber 
where  character  is,  and  set  it  in  order  before  you ;  if  the  Spirit  of 
God  should  knock  at  the  door  of  the  soul,  and  would  fain  bring  in 
the  light  by  which  you  should  see  which  were  evil  and  which  were 
divine  elements,  would  you  want  to  know  your  condition  ?  Mostly, 
no.  Men  do  not  want  to  know  all  these  things.  Men  are  like  bolt- 
ing-cloths, that  separate  the  wheat  and  the  bran,  and  throw  one  this 
way,  and  the  other  that  way.  All  that  is  pleasant;  all  that  ministers 
to  self-indulgence — that  they  fain  Avould  have;  but  that  which  is 
critical,  and  exact,  and  painful ;  that  which  cuts  into  their  imperfec- 
tions or  faults,  like  a  surgeon's  knife  into  fungi  or  gangrenous  flesh, 
they  do  not  want  to  know  or  feel. 

Is  there  any  thing  in  this  world  that  ought  to  be  so  precious  to  a 
man  as  his  manhood  ?  I  love  to  see  a  man  own  his  estate.  I  love  to 
see  him  decorate  it.  He  can  not  make  it  more  beautiful  than  I  ap- 
prove. Plant  it  royally.  Beautify  it  with  landscape  pictures.  He 
can  not  build  his  mansion  too  regally,  nor  furnish  it  too  exquisitely, 
if  it  be  conformable  to  his  means  and  position.  And  I  will  walk 
with  hira  through  the  tesselated  halls ;  I  will  look  with  him  upon  the 
art  which  adorns  the  apartments ;  I  will  look  through  the  alcoves  of 


TEE   OLD   AND    THE  FEW.  271 

Lis  library,  and  I  will  applaud,  and  be  happy  as  he  is  happy.  It  is 
not  this  that  I  disapprove.  But  that  a  man  should  till  his  ground, 
and  let  his  soul  go  fallow ;  that  he  should  build  his  costly  mansion, 
and  let  his  spiritual  dwelling  be  ruthlessly  beaten  in  upon  by  every 
drifting  storm;  that  he  should  take  care  of  his  substance,  and  let  his 
soul  go  to  eternal  damnation — this  is  that  which  I  marvel  at. 

Now,  is  not  this  a  time  for  forethought  ?  Is  it  not  a  time  for  ear- 
nest thought  ?  Is  it  not  a  time  for  searching  thought  ?  I  shall  be 
called  to  your  funerals  before  long,  and  then  it  will  be  too  late. 
What  if  ray  tongue  be  plain  ?  What  if  it  seem  bitter  ?  What  if  it 
thresh  like  a  flail  ?  It  is  a  better  kindness  than  the  tongue  of  the 
flatterer.  If  I  make  you  discontented,  it  is  a  discontent  that  has  love 
in  it.  It  is  better  that  you  should  condemn  yourself  than  that  God 
should  condemn  you.  It  is  better  that  I  should  put  you  upon  an 
inspired  life  by  making  you  discontented  with  the  one  that  you  have 
followed,  than  that  by  following  it  you  should  go  down  to  shame 
and  everlasting  contempt. 

Ye  are  the  children  of  the  N'ew  and  not  of  the  Old.  Let  your 
life  mount  up  toward  God.  And  remember  who  is  your  Father. 
Remember  whom  ye  hope  to  be  companions  with.  Ye  are  going 
"  to  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first-born ;"  to  saints ; 
to  "the  spirits  of  just  men  made  pei'fect."  See  that  ye  are  habited 
gloriously  for  that  royal  abode.  And  is  it  not  the  time  now  to  begin 
such  a  fit  work  for  the  year?  You  have  exchanged  salutations  of 
good-fellowship  one  with  another;  and  that  is  a  beautiful  practice. 
It  is  a  beautiful  practice  for  a  man  to  lay  aside  all  animosities  at  the 
beginning  of  the  year,  and  to  reach  forth  an  open  palm  to  every  one 
tha-t  he  meets,  as  if  he  said,  "  Let  the  past  bury  the  past.  Let  us  begin 
anew."  That  is  right  noble  between  man  and  man.  But  there  are 
thousands  of  guardian  angels  about  you.  Do  you  greet  them  ?  "  The 
Spirit  and  the  bride  say.  Come."  You  are  beheld  by  innumei-able 
spectators  beyond.  All  heaven  is  near  to  you.  Do  you  give  greet- 
ings to  them  ?  To  your  little  child  that  you  sent  home  to  glory,  and 
for  whom  your  heart  has  yearned,  oh  !  how  much  !  do  you  say,  dare 
you  say,  "All  hail!  I  reach  out  hands  of  gratulation  to  you.  I  am 
changing ;  I  am  drawing  near "  ?  Can  you  say  to  your  mother 
(methinks  mine  walks  high  up  among  the  saintly  throng — she  who, 
by  God's  good  grace,  has  been  sent  to  be  my  guardian,  I  doubt  not ; 
who  has  brooded  over  my  life,  and  whom  I  behold,  oh !  how  much 
higher  than  I  am  !) — can  you  say  to  your  mother,  with  heart  true 
and  sincere,  to-night,  "I  bid  you  joy  of  the  new  year  ;  and  ray  heart 
is  coming  to  meet  thine  "  ?  And  "  Jesus,  the  Mediator  of  the  new 
Covenant;"  he  who  bought  us  with  his  own  precious  blood;  he 
whose  love  to  us  is  greater  than  all  the  heat  and  light  that  the  sun 


272  '  THE   OLD   AND    THE  NEW. 

slieds  through  ages  on  the  globe;  he  of  the  great  and  royal  heart , 
he  in  whom  is  our  hope — can  you  stand  at  the  beginning  of  the  year, 
and  reach  heart  and  hand  to  him,  and,  with  new  covenant  and  new 
pact,  say,  "  Thine — living  or  dying,  thine  !  " 

I  linger ;  and  yet  I  know  that  it  is  in  vain,  by  added  words,  or  by 
intenser  expressions,  to  reach  the  heart.  My  dear  brethren  and. 
friends,  I  am  joined  to  you,  to-night,  in  sympathy.  I  am  joined  to 
you  in  love.  We  are  pilgrims  together.  We  are  moving  on.  Of 
this  we  are  conscious.  My  sight  grows  dimmer.  Whiteness  is  com- 
ing on  these  locks.  And  you  are  keeping  company.  I  observe  it. 
Those  that  were  little  children  when  I  came  here,  are  now  carrying 
their  little  children  in  their  arms.  The  young  men  with  whom  I 
took  counsel  are  now  speaking  with  their  grandchildren. 

We  are  all  moving  on  together.  Thank  God,  we  have  moved  to- 
gether in  the  dear  and  sweet  sympathy  of  love.  But  let  us  now  take 
one  step  in  advance,  one  step  up,  for  the  new  year.  Let  us  look  up,  let 
lis  look  away,  beyond,  Avhere  Christ  sitteth,  and  set  our  affections  there. 
And  as  we  have  lived  together,  and  are  living,  and  shall  yet  live,  by 
God's  good  providence,  let  us  have  a  common  fiith,  and  a  common 
hope,  and  a  common  consecration,  until  the  day  of  departure  comes, 
(happy  is  he  to  whom  it  comes  first,)  and  the  heart  hears  God  saying, 
"  Long  enough  from  home,  O  my  child  !  come  up,  come  up,"  and 
the  angels  fly  to  meet  the  emancipated  spirit.  If  you  go  first,  I  shall 
thank  God  for  you ;  if  you  follow,  I  shall  give  gratulation  for  your 
victory ;  and  if  I  go  first,  do  ye  thank  God  for  my  release,  and  for 
my  victory.  And  may  God  grant  that  then,  in  the  heavenly  land, 
when  these  clogs  and  these  hinderances  are  all  laid  aside,  in  a  better 
summer,  with  a  better  Teacher,  with  a  liolier  companionship,  we 
may  hold  on  together  in  eternal  blessedness.     Amen. 


n 


PRATER    BEFORE    THE    SERMOIf. 

We  thank  thee,  our  heavenly  Father,  that  that  way,  shut  up,  has  been  opened  ;  hard  to  find, 
has  hecome  now,  in  Jesus  Christ,  the  living  way;  no  longer  new,  yet  never  growing  old — that 
way  of  faith  and  love,  working  holiness.  How  sweet  is  the  companionship  of  thy  Spirit  with 
ours  !  What  things  we  can  do  when  thou  art  with  us  !  How  wide  the  suggestion  of  our  reason 
and  our  imagination  I  When  touched  by  thee,  we  fly  every  whither.  Nothing  can  then  hinder. 
Wc  draw  near  to  thee.  We  fly  in  circuits  of  duty.  We  go  forth  out  of  the  present  and  toward 
the  future.  And  though  we  can  not  reach  the  infinite  circles  where  thou  art,  we  find  thee  every- 
where, and  rejoice  in  communion  with  thee,  and  are  more  and  more  brought  into  the  spirit  of 
adoption,  and  find  it  easier  to  say,  "  Our  Father,"  our  hearts  going  before  our  lips  ;  so  that  from 
day  to  day  we  are  conscious  that  we  are  living  as  sons,  and  that  thou  art  better  than  an  earthly 
parent  to  us— more  noble ;  more  full  of  generous  love ;  more  wonderfully  full  of  helpfulness. 
Thou  dost  bear  our  infirmities.  Tea,  thou  dost  carry  our  very  sins.  We  are  taken  up  in  the 
arms  of  thy  gracious  power.  We  are  carried  over  those  things  which  block  our  way.  When  we 
fall  down,  we  are  lifted  up  again.  When  things  mightier  than  our  will  oppose  us,  thou  dost  set 
thine  o\vn  will  against  them.  And  thou  art  giving  us  victories.  Through  thee  we  are  mightier 
than  aU  our  adversaries.  By  thee  the  world  itself  is  vanquished  in  us.  By  thee  we  discern  truths 
new.    By  thee  old  truths  sprout  again,  and  bring  blossoms  and  fruit  to  our  longing  natmx.    How 


THE  OLD   AND    THE  NEW.  273 

fruitful  is  thy  Spirit  in  our  spirit !  How  grateful  are  the  blessings  which  come  thus  with  the  fra- 
grance of  thine  hand  upon  them  I  We  would  not  have  any  thing  come  that  we  had  procured 
ourselves.  AU  our  gifts  are  doubly  dear  because  they  are  from  thine  hand.  And  we  thank  thee 
that  by  suggestion  our  very  earthly  and  secular  care  and  toil  and  remuneration  is  of  heaven ;  that 
we  find  the  suggestion  of  the  eternal  state  even  in  this  mortal  and  perishing  state. 

And  now,  O  Lord  our  God !  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  accept  our  confession  of  short- 
coming, of  sin,  and  of  un worthiness,  and  that  thou  wilt  accept  also  our  supplication  for  grace  to 
help  in  time  of  need.  Sometimes  our  fears  arise.  Then,  O  blessed  Saviour  1  come  to  us,  though 
it  be  midnight,  walking  on  the  sea.  Sometimes  all  hope  seems  slain ;  but  thou,  O  blessed  Saviour  t 
canst  call  the  very  dead  to  life  again.  Thou  canst  re\ive  our  hope  and  our  courage  in  us.  Some- 
times our  burdens  seem  greater  than  we  can  bear ;  and  yet,  thou  layest  once  more  the  cross  upon 
the  burden,  and  behold,  thy  yoke  is  easy,  and  thy  burden  is  light.  O  wondrous  cross  !  that  bore 
thee,  and  then  took  life  by  which  it  could  revive  the  world  itself  I  We  ask  not  for  a  lighter  cross. 
We  ask  not  for  the  cross  to  be  taken  away.  We  ask  that  it  may  be  bound  to  us,  and  we  to  it. 
There  we  have  found  our  greatest  good.  There,  when  we,  too,  yielded  ourselves  up ;  when  we 
gave  our  life,  or  something  of  it ;  when  we  learned  the  lesson  of  sorrow ;  when  we  suffered  for 
others  ;  when  we  denied  ourselves,  then  we  were  joined  more  nearly  to  thee ;  then  that  sovereign 
and  reviving  life  of  thine,  that  divine  and  blessed  sympathy,  came  forth  unto  us,  and  we  learned 
in  those  moments,  in  those  rejoicing  hours,  the  secret  of  God.  Oh !  bring  back  those  hours  again. 
Bring  back  that  heart-humbled  experience ;  that  self-renunciation ;  that  holy  lov^ ;  and  that 
desire  to  serve  only  thee  with  utter  trust,  with  childlike  confidence.  Speak  again  to  us  these 
faith-experiences.  Who  is  so  lovely  as  thou  art  ?  To  whom  should  we  go,  blessed  Saviour,  but 
to  thee  ?  Thou  art  our  living  Head  ;  thou  art  our  Life ;  thou  art  our  Light.  When  our  thoughts 
dwell  upon  the  great  future,  and  the  dark  hour  between  us  and  the  life  to  come  draws  near,  then 
we  more  earnestly  cling  to  thee.  For  nothing  shall  separate  us  from  thee.  Living  or  dying,  we 
are  thine.    Living  or  dying  will  be  thine. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  O  blessed  Saviour  !  to-night,  thy  presence  in  many  ways.  Cheer 
and  comfort  thy  servants.  To  those  that  are  almost  through  their  work  of  life,  send  down, 
to-night,  some  light  from  the  heavenly  battlements ;  some  word,  as  it  were,  wafted  from  the 
singers  that  are  beyond  pain  and  care  and  sorrow;  and  may  they  rejoice  that  their  labors  are 
almost  over,  and  that  their  reward  is  well-nigh  reached. 

To  those  who  are  in  the  midst  of  life,  yet  bearing  its  burdens  and  tasks,  with  high  duties, 
give  premonitions,  and  Christian  enterprise,  and  fidelity,  and  courage,  that  they  may  fulfill  their 
parts,  and  acquit  themselves  as  men.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  they  may  remember  that  they 
serve  the  Lord  Christ ;  and  in  aU  things  may  they  honor  his  name. 

Be  with  those  who  are  beginning  life.  We  pray  that  thou  wilt  direct  their  steps.  Save  them 
from  the  cunningly-devised  snares  by  which  the  evil  one  would  entrap  them  to  harm.  Deliver 
them  from  corrupt  customs,  and  from  evil  influences.  And  may  they  consecrate  the  morning  of 
life  untarnished  to  the  service  of  Him  who  is  worthy  of  their  utmost  consecration. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  make  this  year  a  year  of  great  power  in  our  midst.  Eevive 
thy  work  in  the  hearts  of  thy  people.  Inspire  more  enterprise  and  more  joyful  labors  among  us. 
May  we  sow  abundantly,  and  reap  an  hundred  fold. 

We  pray  that  thou  wilt  send  abroad  the  light  of  thy  truth  to  all  the  churches,  and  through  the 
churches  into  all  our  land. 

Bless  all  schools  and  colleges.  Grant  that  education  may  breathe  a  spirit  of  true  religion,  a 
new  influence  of  religion  and  intelligence. 

May  civilization  develop  and  grow.  May  our  whole  land  be  united  in  truth  ;  and  may  all 
lands  come  into  the  participation  of  those  promises  which  liave  so  long  cheered  the  world ;  whicli 
so  long  have  been  awaiting  us,  but  which  have  not  seemed  to  come  nearer.  How  long,  O  Lord  ! 
wilt  thou  delay  ?  How  long  shall  darkness  brood  on  continents  ?  How  long  shall  iniquity  blind- 
fold men,  and  superstition  mislead  them  ?  O  Lord  Jesus !  come  forth.  Thou  that  art  the  Pilgrim 
of  ages,  guiding  thy  pilgrim  people  ;  thou  Leader  that  didst  carry  thine  ovra  through  the  wilder- 
ness, and  art  conveying  the  world  through  its  wilderness,  come,  we  beseech  of  thee.  And  may 
the  promised  land  appear  at  last.    And  may  all  tongues,  all  peoples,  all  nations,  be  gathered  in. 

And  to  thyname-shall  be  the  praise.  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Amen. 


PRAYEU    AFTER    THE    SERMON. 

O  THOU  that  didst  teach  the  prophets,  thou  that  didst  teach  the  apostles,  is  thy  light  gone 
out?  Art  not  thou  yet  the  Light  of  the  world  ?  the  heart's  only  Hope  ?  the  soul's  only  Saviour  ? 
Jesus,  have  we  trusted  in  thee  in  vain  ?  and  is  our  hope  vain  ?  Nay,  can  we  come  to  thee  in  the 
confidence  of  faith  ?    Sinful  we  are  in  every  part,  full  of  imperfections,  disordered  and  confoaed. 


274 


THE   OLD   AND    THE  NEW. 


At  times  our  only  liglit  has  been  derived  from  thee.  For,  what  nature  brings  ns  is  thy  gift,  and 
thy  grace  sends  also  the  fire  and  the  light  to  the  very  soul.  Thou  art  our  Teacher.  We  do  not 
swerve  into  doubts,  nor  roll  in  the  changes  and  revolutions  and  tumult  of  things.  This  one 
truth  we  know— Coc?  loves  vs  ;  and  all  our  soul  knows  that  we  need  a  God  to  love  us.  We  can 
not  lift  ourselves  to  the  height  of  our  desire.  We  can  not  reach  our  own  conceptions.  But  thou, 
O  creating  God  1  ever  creating  still  in  each  one  of  us— thou,  by  thy  love,  canst  bring  summer  to 
the  soul.    Thou  art  bringing  it. 

For  all  the  blessings  of  the  year  gone  by,  we  thank  thee.  We  thank  thee  that  we  have  loved 
one  another.  We  thank  thee  that  love  hath  made  us  better  and  truer  and  higher.  We  thank 
thee  for  all  added  fortitude— for  all  patience  that  we  have  learned.  We  thank  thee  that  we  have 
learned  forbearance  as  we  did  not  know  it  before.  We  thank  thee  for  our  fellowship  one  with 
another.  We  thank  thee  for  what  we  have  done  for  others.  We  thank  thee,  also,  for  bread,  and 
for  shelter,  and  for  raiment,  and  for  all  these  lesser  virtues. 

And  now,  O  Lord  our  God  1  we  thank  thee,  above  everything,  for  thyself,  and  for  this  honor- 
ing companionship.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  not  leave  us  nor  forsake  us.  What 
moment  we  lose  sight  of  thee,  we  are  as  children  in  the  mighty  forests,  that  are  utterly  lost,  and 
that  cry  out  with  fear ;  and  what  moment  thou  dost  speak  to  us  again,  it  is  all  peace ;  for  the  soul 
is  filled,  and  rests  in  thee,  thou  Uving  Saviour — our  Saviour.  We  rejoice  in  thee ;  we  praise  thee ; 
we  love  thee ;  we  trust  utterly  in  thee.  Thou  shalt  work  aU  our  good  in  us  now ;  in  death  thou 
wilt  not  leave  us  nor  forsake  us ;  thou  wilt  receive  our  ransomed  souls  to  heaven  ;  and  from  thy 
lips  we  shaU  hear,  ere  long,  the  blessed.  Messed  word,  "  Well  done ;  enter  into  the  joy  of  thy 
Lord." 

And  in  heaven,  forever,  and  forever,  we  will  give  the  praise  of  our  salvation  to  the  Father, 
the  Son,  and  the  Spirit.    Amen. 


XVIII. 
THE  HIDDEN   CHRIST. 


THE    HIDDEN    CHRIST. 


SUNDAY  MORNING,  JANUARY  10,  1869. 


IKVOCATION. 

0  Lord,  we  look  up  unto  tliee  in  unconscious  want.  Every  flower,  and  all 
things  that  live,  or  fly,  or  swim,  or  creep,  depend  ujion  thee ;  and  we  in  the  body 
are  fed  without  our  thought  or  care.  But  for  our  souls,  whose  hunger  is  greater, 
whose  need  is  more,  we  draw  near  to  thee  this  morning,  and  say,  Dear  Father, 
love  us.  Let  us  have  within  ourselves  the  knowledge  of  thy  love,  and  our  trou- 
bles shall  be  at  an  end  ;  and  we  shall  have  quiet  and  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of 
glory.  Grant  that  the  ministration  of  the  truth,  the  service  of  prayer,  and  thanks- 
giving, and  song,  and  meditation,  and  instruction,  may  all  of  them  conspire  to  lead 
us  into  the  blessedness  of  thy  fatherhood,  that  this  day  may  be  as  the  opening 
of  the  palace  gate  to  us,  and  we  may  be  brought  to  our  very  home  in  Christ 
Jesus.    Amen. 


"  And  their  eyes  were  opened,  and  they  knew  him ;  and  he  vanished  out  of 
their  sight." — Luke  xxiv.  31. 

No  more  picturesque  and  beautiful  scene  is  depicted  in  the  life  of 
Christ,  than  this  walk,  after  his  resurrection,  out  to  Emraaus.  The 
innocent  unconsciousness  of  the  disciples  pleases  lis  like  a  scene  in 
a  drama.  That  trait,  too,  in  the  Lord,  which  led  him  to  keep  in 
disguise,  is  peculiarly  interesting.  It  interprets  much  of  the  divine 
nature.  One  would  have  looked,  according  to  the  ordinary  ideas  ol 
the  divine  mind,  and  of  its  methods,  for  an  open  and  prompt  dis- 
closure of  himself.  But  no.  It  was  pleasant  to  him,  for  some  reason, 
to  be  with  his  disciples,  to  love  them,  to  perceive  their  embarrass 
ments,  to  instruct  them,  Avithout  letting  them  know  that  he  was  there. 
It  was  not  deception.  It  was  only  a  permitting  them  to  have  their 
own  notions  of  him  undisturbed,  while  he  exercised  the  full  mission 
of  love.  ■  This  can  not  be  an  unintended  disclosure  of  the  divine 
nature.  I  will  not  call  it  mystic;  and  still  less  will  I  call  it  secretive; 
but  there  is  a  love  of  non-disclosure  of  personality  during  the  opera 

Lesson  :  Luke  xxiv.  13-53.    Hymns  (Plymouth  Collection) :  Nos.  212,  898, 1263. 


276  TEE  HIDDEN  CHRIST. 

tion  of  merciful  grace,  wliicli  has  illustration  in  various  other  parts 
of  the  Gospel.  The  disciples  could  not  but  have  had  some  curiosity 
to  know  who  thus,  as  a  master,  meeting  them  by  the  way,  was  in- 
structing them  so  mightily  out  of  the  scriptures. 

One  can  not  but  see  that  the  Lord  carried  himself  to  them  just  as 
in  nature  divine  providence  is  always  carrying  itself.  Mercies  move 
with  wide-spread  benefaction ;  yet  without  interpreting  themselves. 
Nature  is  blessing  without  saying,  "  I  bless."  Messages  are  coming 
through  the  air,  and  through  divine  providence,  from  God ;  and  yet, 
they  do  not  say  "  God."  God  is  present  in  a  silent  way  always.  A 
certain  hidden  element,  or  hiding  element,  there  is  in  the  divine  mind. 
God's  blessings  steal  into  life  noiselessly.  They  are  neither  self- 
proclaiming,  nor  even  self-announcing. 

There  is  an  exquisite  touch,  too,  in  the  scene  at  the  gate,  where  it 
is  said,  "  He  made  as  though  he  would  have  gone  further,"  which 
some  have  stumbled  at,  supposing  that  it  was  a  ruse  or  trick — a 
gentle  pretense  to  secure  entreaty.  Such  persons  can  not  understand 
the  niceties  of  the  finer  and  the  higher  feelings.  Doubtless  he  would 
have  gone  on,  had  they  not  let  out  their  hearts  on  him,  and  con- 
strained him  to  enter.  Nothing  is  so  sensitive  as  love — and  the 
greater,  the  more  sensitive.  It  can  not  endure  indifference.  It  needs 
to  be  wanted.  Like  a  lamp,  it  needs  to  be  fed  from  out  of  the  oil  of 
another's  heart,  or  its  flame  burns  low. 

Christ  came  to  save  the  world ;  and  in  this  great  and  generic 
ministry,  his  love  bore  him  through  all  sufferings,  all  enmities,  all 
ignorances,  all  oppositions,  all  cruelties,  and  death  itself.  None  of 
these  things  checked  his  career.  But  all  this  time,  while  his  love, 
generic  or  beneficent,  was  not  lessened  by  discouragements  and  op- 
positions, his  personal  afiection  maintained  a  delicacy  which  was 
noteworthy,  both  as  characteristic  of  the  divine  nature,  and  as  a 
pattern  and  example  of  ours.  He  comes  with  all  nobility  and  with 
all  sensibility  of  exquisite  feeling,  to  his  own.  It  was  not  for  him, 
surely,  to  ask  reluctant  hosjiitality  of  the  disciples.  If  they  did  not 
proffer  kindness,  should  he  beg  it  ?  If  they  did  not  wish  him,  should 
he  wish  to  thrust  himself  upon  them  ?  His  soul  was  full,  his  heart, 
and  his  hands ;  and  yet,  had  they  not  entreated  him,  he  would  not 
have  gone  in.  Not  because  he  was  proud ;  certainly  not  because  he 
was  resentful ;  but  the  nature  of  the  highest  love  is  to  be  exquisitely 
sensitive  to  the  act  of  forcing  itself  unbidden  and  unwelcome  upon 
another.  The  finer,  the  stronger,  the  higher  love  is,  the  more  it  is 
conditioned  upon  reciprocation. 

But  when  he  had  gone  in,  and  by  his  silent  power,  like  a  bursting 
bud,  blossomed  out  before  them,  at  the  evening  meal,  then,  in  the 
very  moment  of  their  joy,  he  vanished  from  their  sight.      They  first 


TEE  EIDDE^T  CHRIST.  277 

knew  the  fullness  of  tlieir  blessing  when  they  were  losing  it.  And 
not  in  religion  alone  is  it  true  that  blessings  brighten  as  they  take 
their  flight. 

The  two  thoughts,  then,  for  our  meditation  this  morning,  are, 
Jirst^  The  Lord's  presence  in  unperceived  ways  in  the  daily  wants  of 
his  people ;  and  second.  The  full  privilege  of  the  soul  in  God's  presence 
and  providence  discerned  when  the  gift  is  vanishing  away. 

As  in  the  Lord's  day  he  appeared  to  his  friends  oftener  in  any 
place  than  in  the  temple;  as  in  the  fixed  place  of  the  Jews'  worship, 
■where  God  was  supposed  to  have  his  dwelling,  he  met  his  people  less 
frequently  than  in  what  seemed  to  them  unconsecrated  places  ;  as  on 
the  sea,  on  the  mountain,  in  the  house,  at  dinner,  at  supper,  in  funeral 
processions,  at  marriages  and  festive  scenes,  Christ  performed  his 
most  eminent  works,  and  disclosed  himself  most  remarkably  ;  so  yet, 
the  Lord  comes  to  his  people  in  all  the  infinite  events  of  daily  provi- 
dence. Not  alone  in  the  set  hours  of  devotion,  or  on  days  of  worship, 
or  in  the  cliurch,  is  he  present;  but  as  much  to-day  as  when  on  the 
road  to  Emmaus,  he  walks  in  the  way  with  his  people. 

Some  of  the  brightest  insights  come  to  Christians  suddenly,  in  un- 
expected places,  without  any  volitional  prejjaration.  Some  of  the  most 
amazing  joys  break  forth  in  hours  not  set  apart  for  joy.  As  many 
of  the  Lord's  days  prove  dull  days,  so  many  days  that  are  not  Lord's 
days  prove  bright  days.  For  though  God  meets  us  in  the  church, 
and  meets  us  at  the  altar,  he  does  not  confine  himself  to  the  church 
nor  to  the  altar.  The  road  is  liis  ;  the  mountain  still  is  his ;  the 
valley  yet  is  his  ;  the  river  course,  the  edge  of  the  sea,  and  the  broad 
ocean  are  his  ;  and  God,  who  is  everywhere,  whose  bounties  are  innu- 
merable, who  flashes  forth  his  glory  frq_m  the  great  temple  above, 
filling  the  earthly  temples,  and  filling  the  dwellings,  and  the  fields, 
and  all  places — he  is  to  be  sought  Avhere  you  need  him.  He  is  to  "be 
found  wherever  the  soul  is  ready  to  receive  him.  Li  some  tender 
moment,  amidst  cares  and  toils  and  sorrows,  often  there  starts  up  the 
thought  of  the  divine  presence  with  such  majesty  and  beauty  as  a 
thousand  sabbatlis  could  not  shadow  forth  in  the  ordinary  exj^erience 
of  Christians.  When  pained,  when  weeping,  when  looking  down 
even,  yea,  when  looking  into  the  very  sepulchre's  mouth,  behold, 
again  angels  are  seen.  And  those  looking  report.  Though  they  did 
not  see  the  Saviour,  yet  they  saw  his  messengers — liis  blessed  angels. 

In  the  midst  of  secular  duties  come  pauses  of  rest.  Li  strifes,  in 
ambitions,  in  struggles,  in  conflicts  necessary,  wherever  Christian 
duty  carries  the  faithful  Christian,  he  shall  find  in  unexpected  places 
things  laid  up. 

Travelers  over  wide  spaces  that  are  unpopulous  hide  their  food 
in   what  are  called  caches,  that,  returning,  they  may  have  it  at  fit 


278  TEE  HIDDEN  CHRIST. 

and  appropriate  points  for  their  necessities.  God  fills  the  world  with 
these  spots  of  hidden  food ;  and  we  meet  him,  and  his  mercies,  not 
alone  in  appointed  places,  in  houses  of  entertainment,  but  in  the 
wildei'ness — everywhere. 

One  has  not  then  to  wait  till  Sunday  comes  round  for  his  bless- 
ings ;  one  has  not  to  wait  till  the  closet  can  be  reached  at  evening. 

Christ  may  be  found  at  the  well,  if  you  come  there  to  draw. 
Christ  may  be  found  at  the  receipt  of  custom,  where  Matthew  found 
him.  Christ  may  be  found  behind  the  bier,  where  the  widow  found 
him.  Christ  may  be  found  on  the  sea,  where  the  disciples  found 
him  when  they  were  fishing.  He  is  moving  with  world-filling 
presence  everywhere. 

It  is  our  conventional  idea  that  forbids  our  recognizing  Christ. 
The  joy  that  we  have  in  the  shop,  the  blessings  that  we  have  in  the 
household,  if  they  were  rigged  in  some  custom  of  religion,  if  they 
were  prefixed  by  some  sentence  of  theology,  if  they  had  some  cate- 
chetical features  about  them,  we  might  think  to  be  a  vision  of 
angels,  or  the  token  of  the  apj^roach  of  the  Highest ;  but  because  they 
come  without  any  appearance  of  divinity  or  sanctity,  walking  in  the 
way  just  like  one  of  us,  as  Christ  walked  just  like  one  of  the  disciples, 
speaking  of  their  cares  and  struggles  and  difficulties,  and  sympathiz- 
ing with  tlieir  anxieties,  we  scarcely  recognize  this  Avondrous  presence 
of  our  God  with  us. 

But  notably  Ave  may  mention  that  God  comes  to  his  peoj^le  in  an 
undisclosed  and  unrecognized  form  in  the  hours  of  their  despondency, 
as  in  the  text.  Or,  to  put  it  in  other  Avords,  that  Avhich  seems  to  us 
to  be  a  cloud  and  darkness,  is,  after  all,  but  the  garment  in  the 
midst  of  Avhich  Christ  is  Avalking.  It  seems  our  adversary.  It  is  a 
day  of  depression.  All  looks  like  darkness.  Our  plans  are  rootless. 
Nothing  bears  the  fruit  that  Ave  had  expected.  Life  seems  flowing 
away.  We  have  had  our  time.  We  have  done  little  good.  Little 
remains  yet  to  do.  All  things  fail  us.  All  fountains  are  dry.  All 
joys  are  Avithei'ed.  Yet,  in  these  hours  of  deep  despondency,  Avhich 
come  to  all,  and  to  many  often,  if  they  did  but  knoAV  it  Christ 
walks  in  the  Avay  not  far  from  them.  It  does  not  seem  to  them  that 
this  can  be  the  mode  of  Christ's  communication ;  but  hours  of  despon- 
dency are  the  hours  of  the  living  Saviour. 

Great  sorrows  carry,  likewise,  the  Saviour  within  them.  Al- 
th  )ugh  Ave  fain  would  see  tlie  Saviour  coming  Avith  a  smile,  he 
chooses  to  come,  often,  with  scoavIs  and  frowns.  Blessed  be  his 
name,  that  froAvns  and  smiles  alike  mean  love  Avith  him.  Just  as,  in 
the  great  cycle  of  the  year,  frost  and  dew  are  the  same  thing,  and 
come  Avith  a  like  merciful  errand,  though  Avith  a  different  function, 
both  of  them  serving  the  fruitfulness  of  nature,  and  both  of  them 


TEE  HIDDEN  CHRIST.  279 

being  a  part  of  God's  ministration  of  mercy  ;  so  is  the  divine  presence 
in  the  midst  of  great  sorrows.  Though  dark,  though  acerb,  though 
filling  us  with  pain,  sorrows  carry  in  them  the  Saviour.  We  may  not 
know  it ;  but  he  knows  it. 

Temptations  and  struggles  have  in  them  a  Christ.  Is  your  faith 
yet  callow  and  utterly  unable  to  fly  ?  Are  you  yet  unredeemed 
from  overmastering  sins  of  a  day  gone  by  ?  Is  your  hold  upon  the 
promises  so  feeble  that  you  are  tempest-tossed,  and  fear  mightily  at 
times  utter  wreck  ?  And  do  you  wonder,  turning  your  eye  upon  what 
seems  to  you  empty  space,  that  Christ  should  suffer  his  little  ones  to 
be  so  beset  and  so  tried  ? 

Temptations  have  in  them  a  Christ,  and  struggles  have  in  them  a 
Christ.  He  comes  to  us  in  various  guises— not  alone  as  a  radiant 
Saviour  and  a  God  of  power,  but  as  a  man  of  sorrows  He  comes  in 
sorrows,  and  in  strifes,  and  in  temptations. 

Storms  and  dangers  have  their  Christ  in  them.  Once  when  the 
disciples  were  upon  the  sea,  and  it  was  dark,  and  the  wind  was  high, 
they  beheld  him  coming  to  them.  We  have  our  storms  and  our 
darkness  ;  and  if  we  did  but  know  it,  our  Christ  is  coming,  walking 
upon  the  sea. 

At  another  time,  when  there  was  a  tempest  in  daylight  upon 
the  deep,  he  slept.  The  thunder  that  terrified  the  disciples  woke 
him,  and  he  rebuked  it.  The  storm  has  its  Christ,  and  the  calm  has 
its  Christ. 

All  right  occupations  likewise,  all  duties,  all  daily  fidelities, 
bring  along  with  them  a  divine  presence.  We  are  never  alone.  We 
are  never  doing  things  that  are  merely  secular,  if  we  know  how  to 
make  them  divine.  The  most  menial  callings,  routine  occupations, 
things  not  agreeable  in  themselves,  but  necessary,  and  things  of 
duty,  all  of  them  have  or  may  have  with  them  a  Christ.  Where  less 
than  on  that  dusty  road  between  Jerusalem  and  Emmaus,  with  their 
backs  upon  the  temple,  going  away  from  Jerusalem,  leaving  the 
priests  and  all  the  ordinances  behind  them,  could  they  have  expected 
to  find  their  Saviour !  And  yet,  there  he  walked  with  them. 
Though  our  life  be  the  life  of  the  scullion,  though  we  be  the  errand- 
boy  of  pompous  riches,  though  we  be  the  menial  of  avai'ice,  neverthe- 
less, if  rightly  we  discharge  the  duties  of  our  sphere,  not  far  from  us 
is  a  Saviour,  and  not  far  from  us  are  divine  blessings. 

So  joys  and  social  amenities,  all  right  pleasures,  carry  something 
more  in  them  than  meets  the  eye.  If  men  did  but  know  it,  they  are 
surrounded  by  the  divine  presence.  In  all  the  varied  play  of  every 
faculty,  in  all  the  places  which  every  faculty  leads  the  foot  to,  he  is 
not  far  from  any  one  of  us.  Oh  !  that  there  were  given  to  us  this  faith  by 
which  we  should  discern  God,  not  alone  in  the  heaven  above,  nor  alono 


280  THE  HIDDEN  CHRIST. 

in  the  earth  below,  but  everywhere ;  by  which  we  should  make  every 
mountain  like  Mount  Sinai,  and  every  place  like  the  temple  that  is 
in  Jerusalem  !  How  full  would  life  be,  how  changed  would  life  be, 
how  would  temj^tation  diminish  in  its  force,  how  would  joy  increase 
in  its  sphere,  and  how  should  we  lift  up  our  head  that  now  is  bowed 
down,  and  walk  as  victors  walk! 

From  dullness  or  from  want  of  faith  and  insight,  we  usually  con- 
trive to  let  these  opportunities  go  past,  and  generally  we  discover 
our  greatest  joys  only  in  the  moment  of  their  vanishing.  "  Man  never 
is,  but  always  to  he  blessed,"  has  become  a  motto.  Our  joys  are 
seldom  with  us.  They  are  either  remembered  or  they  are  anticipated. 
When  we  come  where  they  are,  how  few  of  us  there  are  that  are 
soundly  happy !  How  few  there  are  that  are  full  of  joy  and  know 
it !  How  few  there  are  that  have  a  power  in  them  of  blessing,  in 
any  hour  or  in  any  day,  or,  still  less,  series  of  days !  How  few  there 
are  that  can  pluck  from  fortune,  or  from  providence,  or  from  divine 
grace  itself,  fruits  that  shall  be  sweet  to  the  taste  while  they  are 
walking  along  the  road  of  life ! 

It  is  trite,  that  "Mendo  not  know  how  to  value  health  till  they 
lose  it."  It  is  the  same  with  wealth,  No  man  that  has  it  appreciates 
it  half  so  much  while  he  is  in  the  possession  of  it  as  when  he  has  lost 
it.  It  might  be  well  for  those  that  are  blessed  with  a  fortune,  if, 
once  in  a  while,  they  were  brought  to  a  violent  shock,  and  made  to 
look  over  into  the  crevasse  of  bankruptcy.  It  is  well  for  men 
who  are  in  the  enjoyment  of  wealth  that  it  should  seem  to  take  to  it- 
self wings  and  fly  away.  Then  riches  are  very  rich.  A  treasure 
is  very  treasurable  when  we  seem  about  to  lose  it.  So  long  as  we 
are  getting  it,  so  long  as  we  are  having  it,  so  long  as  we  are  increas- 
ing it,  we  undervalue  it.  It  is  not  what  we  have,  but  the  more  Avhich 
we  mean  to  have,  that  we  set  our  heai't  on.  It  is  not  so  much 
wealth,  as  the  avarice  of  wealth,  that  is  corroding  the  soul.  Oh!  if 
God  w^ould  but  make  our  bag  full  of  holes,  that  our  wealth  might  be 
distributed  along  the  road,  and  we  not  discover  it  until  a  half  was 
gone,  the  other  half  would  be  worth  more  to  us  than  the  Avhole,  as  a 
power  of  producing  pleasure.  But  you  would  not  think  so  to  hear 
people  talk.  One  says,  "  Sir,  I  have  not  always  been  as  you  see  me 
now.  I  have  been  in  better  circumstances."  Perhaps  so  ;  but  I  do 
not  consider,  madam,  that  you  were  in  better  circumstances  because 
once  you  wore  silk  and  now  you  wear  calico.  I  do  not  consider 
that  you  were  in  better  circumstances,  necessarily,  because  once  you 
lived  in  a  fine  house  and  now  you  live  in  rooms  that  are  let.  Good 
circumstances  I  always  interpret  from  the  inside  and  not  from  the 
outside.  I  do  not  disregard  creature  comforts.  I  do  not  undervalue 
material  forces.     But  I  say  that  a  man  who  is  rich  and  does  not 


TEE  RIDDEN  CHRIST.  281 

know  how  to  use  his  riclies,  is  not  blessed  by  them.  Pride  and  vani- 
ty, dressed  in  silk,  is  not  half  so  prosperous  as  meekness  and  gentle- 
ness dressed  in  the  plainest  garb,  yea,  in  sackcloth.  There  be  many 
persons  who  tell  me,  "  I  was  once  in  better  circumstances."  Gay  you 
were,  and  giddy  you  wei'e  ;  but  you  were  not  self-helping.  Life  was 
to  you  like  the  flight  of  butterflies.  Life  meant  nothing.  Neither  was 
it  deep,  nor  high,  nor  honorable,  nor  pure.  And  God  took  from  you 
the  sight  of  your  eyes,  and  the  desire  of  your  heart ;  and  the  woi'ld 
grew  wider  and  the  heaven  grew  higher  to  your  trouble,  that  never 
was  wide  or  high  to  your  joy.  And  when  wealth  left  you,  grace 
came.  Then  you  began  to  know,  not  merely  what  was  the  woi-th 
of  pelf,  but  what  was  the  worth  of  life  itself 

It  is  so  of  youth  and  age.  The  young  do  not  know  that  they  are 
young.  "We  spend  half  our  life  wishing  we  were  old,  and  the 
other  half  wishing  we  were  young  again  !  We  never  can  feed  our- 
selves enough  with  fpHy  and  with  fantasies.  It  seems  as  though  we 
were  bewitched,  so  that  we  can  not  enjoy  the  thing  that  we  have 
in  our  hand.  For  we  take  our  measures  as  little  children  take  snow- 
flakes  to  examine  them,  and  they  are  gone.  They  dissolve  in  the 
looking  at  them. 

Especially  is  this  true  of  moral  things — of  moral  treasures. 
Hours  of  religious  peace,  hours  of  spiritual  delight,  never  seem  so 
precious  to  us,  hours  of  religious  duty  are  never  so  dear  to  us,  while 
we  have  them ;  and  they  are,  as  it  were,  in  their  ministration,  as 
when  they  are  gone.  In  our  religious  life  we  are  finding  fault  with 
our  fare.  We  are  dainty  about  our  religious  privileges.  Or,  we  are 
given  over  to  that  last  folly  of  conceit :  we  have  set  ourselves  to 
take  care  of  our  neighbors'  faith.  We  think  ourselves  bound  to  keep 
the  faith  pure  in  the  world  ;  and  we  become  hunting  hounds  of 
heresy,  rushing  here  and  there,  hoping  to  smell  out  somebody's 
defect,  or  to  cure  it,  or  to  punish  it.  Therefore  there  is  always  some- 
thing that  is  wrong  in  our  minister,  in  our  church,  and  in  our  Sunday. 
We  are  censors  ;  we  are  critical ;  we  are  pinching  our  blessings, 
and  pulling  to  pieces  our  flowers,  to  see  if  there  is  not  a  worm  in 
them.  We  crush  our  grapes  to  extract  wine  from  them ;  and  then 
"we  keep  the  wine  until  it  turns  to  vinegar  on  our  lips.  Our  heart's 
blessings — how  many  there  are !  You  have  innumerable  hours  that 
bring  to  you  Christ's  choicest  thoughts.  Ah !  when  you  shall  have 
gone  away  from  here,  when  your  friends  shall  be  no  longer  about 
you,  when  you  shall  be  a  stranger  in  a  distant  settlement,  or  a  dwel- 
ler on  the  sea,  or  in  a  distant  land,  and  heartily  homesick — then  how 
like  stars  will  those  hours  seem  to  you  that  now  you  pick  to  pieces 
and  complain  of  because  they  bring  no  joy  !  Those  very  hours 
which  you  reluctantly  gave  to  the  Sabbath  day — how  you  will  covet 


282  TEE  EIDBEN  CHRIST. 

them  wlien  you  liave  lost  them  !  Those  very  hours  when  you  said, 
"  I  am  enforced  to  pray :  the  time  has  come,  and  it  is  my  duty  to 
pray  " — how  like  balm  and  precious  ointment  will  those  hours  seem 
to  you  when  you  have  lost  them.  Having  squandered  with  dis- 
content the  privileges  which  we  have  now,  memory  will  hoard  them, 
every  one,  like  a  miser. 

Oh  !  that  wisdom  were  given  us  to  know  what  the  blessing  of  to- 
day is,  and  what  the  blessing  of  the  hour  is,  that  we  may  not  then 
see  what  it  is,  when,  like  Christ,  it  vanishes  at  the  moment  of  its 
disclosure. 

And  this  is  touchingly  true  in  other  things  than  religious — in 
social  matters.  We  lose  our  friends,  and  do  not  know  Avhat  treasures 
we  have  till  we  have  lost  them.  There  have  been  vases  that  stood 
in  my  dwelling,  and  that  seemed  fiir  enough,  whose  lines  were 
graceful  enough,  till  some  untoward  hand  upset  them,  and  they  fell 
to  pieces  on  the  floor  ;  and  then,  in  a  moment,  it  seemed  to  me  as 
though  I  had  nothing  left  that  was  half  so  beautiful  as  those  broken 
vases.  If  I  had  only  thought  of  it  before,  I  should  have  taken  better 
care  of  them,  and  should  not  have  lost  them.  We  do  not  value  our 
friends  at  their  full  value  till  we  lose  them.  How  has  it  been  with 
you  ?  Have  you  not  sometimes  gone  to  the  funerals  of  persons  who 
have  befriended  you,  Avhose  goodness,  whose  excellence,  rose  up  with 
a  stateliness,  with  a  breadth,  with  an  admirableness  that  you  never 
saw  before  ?  Oh  !  that  Ave  could  see  as  much  in  the  life  as  we  do  in 
the  death  of  our  friends.  How  many  things  are  there  in  our  homes 
that  never  extort  one  thought  of  gratitude  from  our  souls  until  they 
are  gone,  but  that  then  draAV  from  us  a  thousand  tears  and  a  thou- 
sand complaints. 

Are  we,  then,  but  fountains  of  discontent?  and  are  we  so  instruct- 
ed that  we  know  how  to  mourn  over  things  that  we  have  lost,  and 
do  not  know  how  to  appreciate  them  when  we  have  them  ? 

The  duties  of  the  household  we  covet  Avhen  they  are  no  longer 
possible  to  us.  The  love  of  family,  of  children,  of  friends,  clustered 
together  in  the  most  sacred  relation shijDS — Avould  that  we  knew  how 
to  give  them  their  true  value,  how  to  perceive  their  beauty,  and 
how  to  take  their  ministration. 

Ah  !  our  cares,  even,  are  dear  to  us,  tliough  we  may  not  know  it 
when  we  are  in  the  midst  of  them.  I  remember  me  when,  with  im- 
patient voice,  I  commanded  the  children  to  cease  the  racket  of  their 
sport.  Could  I  not  be  permitted  to  read?  Must  my  house  be  as  a 
bedlam  ?  I  would  to  God  that  I  had  children  to  cry  there  now.  I 
wish  there  would  something  make  a  noise  there  now.  Was  your 
little  babe  so  troublesome  that  you  sometimes  Avondered  that  God 
should  make  it  fretful  all  night,  so  that  you  must  needs  rise  every  hour 


THE  HID  DEW  CHRIST.  283 

to  nurse  it  and  to  care  for  it?  and  did  you  begin  the  cant  of  the 
nurse,  and  talk  about  your  weariness  and  great  pain  in  taking 
care  of  the  child  ?  Peradventure  God  heard  you ;  for  he  took  it  to 
himself  He  never  begrudges  the  care  of  any  thing.  And  then, 
when  you  saw  the  child's  little  shoe,  and  its  little  things  that  were 
put  away  in  the  drawer,  how,  in  the  anguish  of  your  soul,  you  said, 
"  Oh !  if  it  were  a  thousand  times  as  much  pain  and  care  to  me,  would 
to  God  that  I  might  have  it  back  again  !" 

And  so  it  happens  to  us,  after  the  words  of  the  poet : 

"  And  slie  is  gone  ;  sweet  liuman  love  is  gone ! 
'Tis  only  when  tliey  spring  to  heaven  that  angels 
Reveal  themselves  to  you  ;  they  sit  all  day 
Beside  you,  and  lie  down  at  night  by  you, 
"Wlio  care  not  for  their  presence — muse  or  sleep : 
And  all  at  once  they  leave  you,  and  you  know  them  ! 
We  are  so  fooled,  so  cheated  !" 

In  like  manner  is  it  in  respect  to  our  privileges  in  being  workers 
together  with  God.  "While  we  have  the  ^jrivileges,  how  little  we 
esteem  them!  and  how  much,  often,  we  reluctate  and  begrudge  both 
time  and  strength !  Now  it  is  an  exceeding  privilege  for  any  one  to 
be  a  worker  together  with  Christ  in  the  work  of  the  Lord  in  this 
world.  We  are  elected  to  honor  when  we  are  permitted  to  sacrifice 
something  for  another  ;  yet  we  are  accustomed  to  make  it  a  task.  Or, 
if  we  do  not  make  it  a  task,  we  are  accustomed,  turning  toward 
pride,  to  congratulate  ourselves,  as  if  there  were  desert  or  merit  in 
the  fact  that  we  have  labored  much,  and  labored  long,  and  borne 
some  hardness  "  as  good  soldiers."  No  crown  that  any  earthly  mo- 
narch could  put  on  your  head,  no  distinction  that  could  be  con- 
ferred by  writing  your  name  in  the  book  of  nobles,  would  be  an 
honor  so  great  as  that  which  God  bestows  upon  you  when  he 
permits  you  to  go  down  to  the  poorest  beggar's  child,  and  labor  for 
its  coronation  in  heaven.  And  yet  we  do  not  esteem  it  so.  The 
Christ  that  is  in  the  privilege  does  not  appear  until  the  privilege  is 
taken  from  us.  We  take  all  the  external  toil,  and  fail  to  find  the 
hidden  Christ  of  joy  in  fiithful  Christian  labor. 

Our  dull  class — oh !  what  a  trial  it  is  !  And  we  wonder  whether 
it  be  our  duly  to  sacrifice  so  many  precious  hours,  Avhich  might  be 
employed  profitably  in  reading  stately  authors,  or  in  going  where 
the  sound  of  music,  or  the  teaching  of  the  sanctuary,  would  better 
profit  our  souls.  But  woe  be  to  that  man  who  is  more  profited  by 
Avhat  he  receives  than  by  what  he  gives!  By  and  by  you  will  go 
where  no  dull  class  hangs  upon  your  hands ;  where  all  that  are  around 
about  you  ai'e  wicked ;  where  there  is  scarcely  a  Sabbath,  and  no 
sanctuary ;  where  there  are  the  grossest  forms  of  wickedness  on  every 


284  THE  HIDDEN  CHRIST. 

side.  And  In  those  days  of  seclusion,  wlien  you  look  back  and  long 
for  blessings  that  you  enjoyed  in  times  gone  by,  among  other  things 
that  Avill  rise  to  your  memory  will  be  that  dull  class ;  and  you  will 
say,  "  How  happy  I  was !  What  pleasure  I  used  to  take  in  the  Sab- 
bath-school !     Oh !  in  what  bright  colors  my  life  was  wrought !" 

When  the  clouds  drop  down  low,  and  it  is  rainy  and  chilly  and 
misty,  there  is  nothing  in  them  but  discomfort ;  but  when,  the  sun 
having  risen,  they  get  off  a  little  distance,  every  body  claps  his 
hands,  and  calls  out,  and  says,  "  Oh  !  behold  the  rainbow  !"  What  is 
the  rainbow?  Nothing  but  that  cloud  which,  when  it  is  passing 
you,  weaves  a  garment  that  is  disagreeable  and  hateful  to  you,  but 
which,  when  it  is  removed  a  little  distance  fi'om  you,  with  the  sun 
shining  on  it,  is  clothed  with  glory  and  beauty.  Dull  duties  a  little 
way  off  may  become  God's  rainbows  to  men. 

The  whole  world,  with  all  its  floods  of  influence,  passes  by  us. 
We  are  pained.  We  murmur  and,  fret  till  that  which  2:)ains  us 
passes  away.  Then,  looking  back,  we  find  that  those  very  hours 
which  we  used  for  fault-finding  were,  after  all,  the  most  j^recious  of 
hours. 

And  so  is  it  with  the  sanctuary.  So  is  it  with  the  blessings  of 
the  soul  itself.  Our  inward  thoughts,  our  inward  strifes  and  resolu- 
tions, our  very  tears,  our  prayers,  all  that  sacred  history  of  the  soul 
that  is  inherited  upon  earth,  but  is  more  heroic  and  more  wonderful 
than  the  history  of  the  battle-field  or  the  history  of  empires — that 
lore  unexpressed,  that  literature  of  eternity,  the  soul's  inward  life — 
at  the  time  how  little  is  there  to  us  in  it !    how  little  of  Christ ! 

Ah  !  what  a  pity,  my  Christian  brethren,  it  is  that  Christ  should 
vanish  out  of  sight  just  at  the  moment  when  he  discloses  himself! 
What  a  \nij  it  is  that  just  as  our  mercies  are  going  beyond  our 
reach,  they  should  for  the  first  time  seem  to  be  mercies  ! 

In  view  of  these  simple  remarks,  may  you  not  derive  a  motive  for 
the  better  use  of  the  present  in  all  the  relations  of  your  life  than  you 
have  been  accustomed  to  ?  Are  you  not  happier  than  you  are  accus- 
tomed to  think  ?  Are  you  not  in  the  midst  of  more  privileges  than 
you  are  wont  to  believe  ?  Are  not  your  opportunities  greater  than 
you  are  accustomed  to  reckon  ?  Will  it  not  be  true,  by  and  by, 
that  to-day  will  be  bi'ighter  than  it  is  to-day  ?  Will  it  not  prove 
true,  by  and  by,  that  this  hour  is  happier  for  than  you  give  it  credit 
for  being  ?  Are  not  your  friends  better  than  you  think  they  are  ? 
Are  they  not  more  faultless  than  in  your  calendar  from  day  to  day 
they  ai'e  written  down  as  being?  Are  not  your  burdens  lighter 
than  your  complaining  back  makes  them  out  to  be  ?  Is  not  the  yoke 
easier  ?  Is  it  flint  under  your  foot  ?  But  is  it  not  flint  from  the 
crevices  of  which  flowers  are  growing?     Are  there  thorns  upon  the 


THE  HIDDEN  CHRIST.  285 

trees  ?  But  orange-trees  have  fruits  as  well  as  thorns.  Is  it  a  weary 
thing  that  you  must  needs,  in  your  daily  toil,  go  far  out  from  the 
city  to  the  well  to  draw  your  daily  water  ?  But  is  there  not  a 
Chi'ist  there— yea,  even  to  such  a  one  as  the  woman  of  Samaria  ? 
Though  living  in  pleasurable  sin,  and  in  wrong,  was  there  not  wait- 
ing for  her,  even  in  her  daily  tasks,  a  Saviour,  a  Prophet,  with  the 
great  blessing  of  instruction  ?  And  ought  we  not,  bearing  this  in 
mind,  to  make  more  of  one  another ;  more  of  our  children  ;  more  of 
our  parents ;  more  of  our  brothers  and  sisters ;  more  of  our  neighbors  ; 
more  of  the  church  ;  more  of  the  Bible-class  ;  more  of  the  Sabbath- 
school  ;  more  of  all  works  by  which  we  cleanse  the  morals  of  men, 
and  raise  up  the  ignorant,  and  prosper  those  that  are  unfortunate  ? 
May  not  life  be  filled  fuller  of  blessings,  if  only  we  know  how  to 
redeem  the  time,  and  appreciate  the  opportunity  to  perceive  the 
God  that  is  near  us  ? 

Oh  !  what  an  insight  into  life  does  such  a  view  give  us !  "  Oh  ! 
where  shall  I  go  from  thy  presence?"  might  a  devout  soul  say.  "If 
upward,  God  is  there.  If  downward,  God  is  there.  If  flying  like 
the  light  to  the  west,  from  the  east,  God  is  there."  In  sorrow,  in 
strife,  in  weariness,  in  rest,  life  is  full  of  God — God,  "in  whom  we 
live  and  move  and  have  our  being."  And  what  thing  can  be  trivial, 
what  thing  can  be  heedlessl}''  passed  by,  that  is  animated  and  beauti- 
fied by  the  presence  and  the  Spirit  of  the  living  God  ?  We  ought  to 
have  deeper  insight  into  the  meaning  of  life. 

Tou  and  I,  Christian  brethren,  are  coming — and  that,  too,  very 
fast — to  that  hour  when  this  shall  be  reversed ;  when  we  shall  be- 
hold, with  wondrous  disclosure,  the  glory  and  the  beauty  of  Him  who 
when  once  seen,  shall  not  be  lost  again  forever  and  forever.  For  it 
is  said,  ".We  shall  go  no  more  out."  It  is  not  long  that  you  have  to 
bear  your  cross.  It  is  a  short  way,  not  to  Calvary,  but  to  tlie  new 
Jerusalem,  in  which  is  no  Calvary,  but  the  Saviour  rather,  who 
sanctified  it.  Heaven  is  waiting  for  you;  and  God  is  waiting  for 
you.  And  when  once  death  shall  give  that  touch,  from  you  shall 
dissolve  all  opacity  of  time  and  matter,  and  you  shall  behold  him 
who,  once  seen,  shall  shine  upon  you  forever  and  forever  with  heal- 
ing in  his  beams,  an  unsetting  Sun  in  the  heavenly  land. 

Hold  on,  then,  with  jjatience  ;  bear,  suffer,  if  you  must ;  but  irra- 
diate your  care  and  your  suffering  with  the  joy  and  the  expectancy 
of  this  near  hoiir  Avhen  you  shall  stand  in  Zion  and  before  God. 

But  oh !  there  is  another  class.  There  are  those  who  have  had 
the  approach  of  Christ  to  them  in  their  sickness  and  in  their  health, 
and  they  knew  him  not.  There  are  those  who  have  had  groat  pros- 
perities; and  they  only  knew  them  in  their  vanishing.  There  are 
those  who  have  had   religious   truths   pouring  in  abundantly  and 


286  TEE  HIDDEN  CHRIST. 

strongly  upon  their  souls.  They  knew  them  only  when  they  had 
lost  them.  And  all  through  life  this  tantalizing  game  is  played  with 
men  Avho  have  no  God  and  noTiope.  And  the  most  painful  instances 
of  it  will  be  when  they  pass  from  the  scenes  of  this  mortal  state,  and 
when,  for  the  first  time  in  all  their  lives,  there  rises  upon  them  the 
glory  of  God,  when  he'  shall  come  with  thousands  of  angels  to  the 
judgment.  Then  first  in  awful  majesty  of  beauty  they  shall  behold 
him,  and  perish  from  his  presence,  and  finally,  and  awfully,  and  forever 
reenact  that  dreadful  fantasy  of  life  by  which,  Avhen  God  is  disclosed 
he  vanishes ;  by  which  the  soul  at  that  moment  discovers  and  loses 
its  own  most  precious  good.  I  warn  you  of  that  hour.  I  beseech  of 
you  betimes  prej^are  to  take  the  blessing  that  is  near  you.  By  faith 
discern  now  your  Saviour.  And  when  that  hour  shall  come,  if  others 
pass  by,  and  but  look  and  fiiU  forever,you  shall  look  and  live  forever. 


PRAYER    BEFORE    THE    SERMON.* 

Who  are  these,  O  God  !  that  flock  as  clouds  and  as  doves  to  their  windows  ?  Are  they  not 
thine  own  little  ones,  called  from  the  morning  of  life  ?  May  not  the  light  that  greets  their  eyes, 
and  in  which  first  they  learn  any  thing,  be  the  light  of  Christian  instruction,  that  they  may  mingle 
together  Our  father  npon  earth  with  the  sacred  name.  Our  Father  ivhich  art  in  heaven ;  that  they 
may  twine  together  that  love  which  they  learn  to  give  to  their  earthly  parents  with  that  love 
which  they  give  to  their  greater  and  invisible  Parent  ?  Grant  that  all  the  seeds  of  evU  in  them 
may  be  so  by  Instruction  overruled,  and  all  the  tendencies  to  good  so  strengthened  and  trained, 
that  they  may  grow  up  in  the  way  in  -vVhich  they  should  go,  and  may  never  depart  from  it. 

May  these  parents  feel  how  great  is  the  gift  which  thou  hast  given  them  in  these  beloved  ones. 
Not  alone  for  the  joy  of  their  own  earthly  hours  hast  thou  committed  to  them  their  trust :  thou 
hast  made  them  pastors  of  thine  own  flock.  Thou  hast  required  at  their  hands  thy  children — not 
their  own.  These  are  lent  to  them.  They  come  from  thee,  and  they  return  to  thee.  Thou  art 
never  unmindful  of  them.    When  least  thought  of  and  least  seen,  thou  art  present. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  these,  thy  dear  servants,  who  have,  in  the  presence  of  theii 
own  brethren,  expressed  their  purpose  and  their  vows  in  the  consecration  of  their  children  to  the 
service  of  God,  may  never  be  discouraged  or  wearied  by  the  greatness  of  the  way.  And  may 
these  little  ones  know  how  to  shim  the  snare,  and  have  power  to  resist  and  overturn  the  tempta- 
tion. And  grant  that  they  may  grow  up  in  truth,  in  purity,  in  honor.  And  entering  upon  the 
world,  grant  that  they  may  not,  with  growing  experience,  be  carried  away  by  its  wiles,  but  with- 
stand manfully  at  every  step.    Putting  on  the  whole  armor  of  God,  may  they  be  able  to  stand. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  all  the  dear  children  that 
have  been  ofiered  up  in  a  holy  consecration  among  us.  Bless  all  those  for  whom  parents  pray, 
and  who  are  set  apart  in  heart  if  not  in  the  sanctuary. 

And  bless  yet  more,  O  our  Father  I  those  orphan  children  who  have  no  father  nor  mother  in 

Christ ;  whose  eartlily  parents  are  only  earthly  to  them ;  who  have  in  them  no  thought  of  immor 

tality,  no  hope  beyond  the  grave,  no  God,  and  who  thus  grow  up  taught  in  all  that  pertains 

to  the  dust,  but  in  notliing  that  pertains  to  the  immortal  spirit.    Have  mercy  upon  them.    Grant 

*  Immediately  following  the  baptism  of  children. 


THE  HIDBEIsr  CHRIST.  287 

that  the  sweet  influence  of  the  Gospel  may  come  forth  as  a  light  out  of  the  sanctuary ;  that  thero 
may  be  mothers  and  fathers  raised  up  for  them  in  Christ  Jesus  ;  and  that  they  may  not  perish  for 
lack  of  instruction  in  the  midst  of  the  great  treasure  of  thy  truth  in  this  world. 

Oh  1  make,  we  beseech  of  thee,  our  households  more  like  places  of  prayer,  like  gates  of 
heaven,  like  sanctuaries,  like  the  palace  of  the  Lord.  Therein  may  all  purifying  loves  dwell ;  and 
that  wisdom  which  love  inspires  ;  and  all  patience  and  gentleness  ;  and  all  forbearance,  that  wo 
may  in  honor  prefer  one  another,  and  learn  those  graces  of  the  Spirit  which  afterward  are  devel- 
oped in  the  Church  of  Christ.  May  we  find  that  our  household  is  a  church— a  temple  of  God. 
There  wilt  thou  dwell,  and  there  may  we,  amidst  the  ordinances  and  usages  of  love,  dwell  ever- 
more. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  all  thy  servants  that  are 
gathered  together  this  morning.  May  this  be  a  home  and  household  of  faith  to  every  soul  here. 
If  there  are  any  who  have  come  out  of  the  desert,  and  have  found  this  one  green  spot  in  the 
island  of  the  Sabbath,  O  Lord  God  1  grant  that  it  may  not  be  in  vain  that  they  have  come  hither. 
Quench  with  the  river  of  the  water  of  life  that  thirst  which  hath  brought  them  here.  Give  to 
those  that  himger  some  of  the  food  which  they  need.  May  those  that  come  vrithout  raiment,  and 
clothed  in  their  own  righteousness,  this  day  behold  the  garments  of  grace,  and  put  them  on. 

Draw  near,  we  pray  thee,  to  all  those  who  are  bearing  their  yoke — carrying  their  burden. 
And  forget  not  thy  promises.  For,  Lord,  thou  hast  promised  that  if  we  come  to  thee,  the  yoke 
shall  be  easy  and  the  burden  light.  Why  are  they  heavy,  then  ?  Have  we  not  come  ?  and  coming, 
do  we  not  know  thee  ?  O  grant  that  every  one  that  bends  and  complains  may  look  up  and 
discern  the  Master,  and  find  what  sovereign  strength  is  diffused  through  his  being. 

Grant  that  the  blind  may  see  at  thy  touch,  thai  the  lepers  may  be  cleansed,  that  the  deaf  may 
hear.  May  the  dead  live  again.  May  there  on  every  side  be  the  testimonials  this  day  of  thy  pre- 
sence and  of  thy  wondrous  power.  O  fiU  thy  sanctuary  vnth  thy  choicest  gifts— peace  to  those 
that  are  weary,  hope  to  those  that  are  despondent,  confidence  to  those  that  are  unstable  and  ready 
to  perish.  May  none  that  have  put  their  hand  to  the  plow  look  back,  and  so  count  themselves  un- 
worthy of  eternal  life.  Spare  the  feeble,  that  they  may  not  be  tempted  beyond  that  which  they 
are  able  to  bear.  And  may  the  strong  use  their  strength  not  for  themselves,  but  for  those  that 
are  ready  to  perish.    Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that,  as  we  have  freely  received,  so  we  may  freely  give. 

Draw  to  thee  reluctant  hearts.  Disburden  cumbered  hearts.  May  those  that  are  bond-slaves 
to  care  and  to  labor,  at  least  to-day  be  free.  May  they  look  up.  May  those  longing  souls  who 
have  waited  for  thy  blessings  to  come  to  them,  find  blessings  in  all  the  circumstances  and  exigen- 
cies of  life.  Make  every  place  a  sanctuary,  and  every  event  an  ordinance  and  a  means  of  grace  to 
them. 

And  we  pray  thee  that  thou  wilt  shed  abroad  the  light  of  the  truth  m  all  this  land.  Multiply 
the  churches,  and  multiply  their  powers.  Give  more  power  to  those  that  speak  and  more  power 
to  those  that  profess  the  name  of  Christ.  Purify  all  our  schools,  and  academies,  and  colleges,  sad 
sanctify  the  intelligence  that  is  diffused  from  them.  Grant  that  our  laws  may  more  and  more  re- 
present pure  justice,  and  that  our  magistrates,  redeemed  from  corruption,  may  not  put  us  any 
more  to  shame.  Grant  that  through  all  this  land  the  poor  may  be  befriended  and  the  ignorant 
Instructed.  O  save  from  the  snare,  as  a  prey,  those  that  are  in  peril.  And  by  thy  mighty 
power  and  thy  mighty  truth  vindicate  thy  ways  toward  men. 

Look  upon  the  nations  of  the  earth.  Pity  those  that  strive  for  their  rights  and  for  liberty  to 
dve.  Grant  that  victory  may  be  given  to  them,  lest  their  faith  and  courage  fail.  Suffer  them  not 
to  be  overwhelmed  by  their  adversaries.  O  thou  that  hast  sent  light  to  those  that  sit  in  the 
region  and  shadow  of  death,  thou  that  hast  comforted  those  that  were  in  oppression,  wilt  thoa 
comfort  now  the  afflicted,  the  oppressed,  the  down-trodden.  And  let  thy  banner  at  length  be  dis- 
played.   Let  men  look  upon  it  and  see  their  victory  in  it. 

Grant  that  aU  over  the  earth  those  revolutions  may  speedily  take  place  which  are  needed  be- 


288 


THE  BIDDEN  CHRIST. 


fore  the  coming  of  the  Son  of  Man  to  reign  upon  the  earth  in  great  glory.  Hasten  that  hlessed 
day.  Bring  to  pass  the  final  changes  which  are  predicted.  And  may  the  whole  earth  at  last  sea 
thy  salvation. 

We  ask  it  for  the  Redeemer's  sake.    Amen, 


PRAYER    AFTER    THE    SERMON. 


Gka2Tt,  onr  heavenly  Father,  thy  blessing  to  rest  npon  us.  Bless  to  our  use  and  profit  the 
lesson  of  the  hour.  May  we  bear  with  ns  a  thought  of  the  fruitfnlness  of  thy  sacred  scripture. 
It  hangs  as  clusters  hang  on  the  vine,  covered  with  fruit  for  our  need.  May  we  learn  how  to 
search.  May  we  learn  how  to  find.  May  we  learn  how  to  feed  upon  thy  word.  Prepare  us  for 
the  duties  of  life.  Make  us  joyful  in  them  by  the  consciousness  of  thy  presence.  Make  us  royal 
ourselves  by  sympathy  with  our  royal  Head.  And  at  last  bring  us,  through  much  tribulation,  to 
reign  with  thee  in  the  unclouded  glory  of  the  upper  sphere,  where  we  will  praise  the  Father,  the 
Son,  and  the  Spirit  evermore.    Amen. 


XIX. 

WELL-WlSHmG,    ^OT    WELL-DOIKG. 


WELL-WISHING  NOT  WELL-DOING. 


SUNDAY    MORNING.    JANUARY    17,    1869. 


"  And  he  came  to  tlie  second,  and  said  likewise.    And  lie  answered  and  said, 
I  go,  sir  :  and  went  not." — Matt.  xxi.  30. 


You  are  familiar  with  the  parable. 

"  A  certain  man  had  two  sons  ;  and  he  came  to  the  first,  and  said, 
Son,  go  work  to-day  in  my  vineyard.  He  answered  and  said,  I  will 
not :  but  afterward  he  repented,  and  went.  And  he  came  to  the 
second,  and  said  likewise.  And  he  answered  and  said,  I  go,  sir:  and 
went  not.     Whether  of  them  twain  did  the  will  of  his  father?" 

The  second  son  appears  the  more  amiable  at  first  than  the  other, 
though  he  was  worse.  The  first  son  seems  to  have  been  one  of  those 
men  who  are  rough  externally,  with  a  good  heart  inwardly ;  who 
speak  rudely,  but  make  it  up  in  activity  afterward.  Their  tongue  is 
hard,  hasty,  perverse ;  but  their  heart  rebukes  the  rudeness  of  tne 
tongue,  and  rises  up  to  repair  by  kindness  the  rude  utterance.  The 
second  son  was  one  of  those  compliant  creatures  who  promise  every 
thing  and  perform  nothing.  They  are  subjects  of  universal  impres- 
sibility. They  feel  the  slightest  influence,  and  yield  to  it  a  certain 
way ;  but  only  in  a  certain  degree,  and  that  this  side  of  any  profit. 
They  never  convert  impressions  to  ideas.  They  never  ripen  impulses 
into  pui-poses.  They  never  change  emotions  to  principles,  nor  princi- 
ples to  fixed  habits.  They  cry  easily;  they  love  easily;  they  give  up 
easily;  they  fall  back  easily;  but,  like  an  aspen  leaf  that  is  moving 
the  whole  day,  they  are  at  the  same  place  at  night  as  in  the  morning. 
They  quiver,  but  do  not  change — forever  moving,  and  forever  station- 
ary. A  large  class  of  men,  in  every  community,  are  drawn  to  the 
church,  who  are  of  this  kind,  and  may  be  called  well-wishers  to  re- 
ligion, but  not  well-doers  in  religion. 

To  wish  and  to  xoill  are  very  diiferent  things.  There  are  a 
thousand  men  who  wish,  where  there  is  one  man  that  wills.      Wish' 

Lesson  :  James  ii.    Hymns  (Plymouth  Collection)  :  Nos.  495,  539, 1237. 


290  WELL-wiSEma  not  well-doing. 

ing  is  biit  a  faint  state  of  desire.  Willing  is  a  state  of  the  reason, 
and  of  the  affections,  and  of  the  will,  in  activity,  to  secure  what  one 
desires.  A  man  may  wish,  and  yet  reject  all  the  steps  and  instru- 
ments by  which  that  wish  can  be  carried  into  effect.  No  man  wills 
until  he  has  made  up  his  mind  not  only  to  have  the  end,  but  to  have 
all  the  steps  intermediately  by  which  that  end  is  to  be  secured.  To 
will  a  thing  is  to  will  the  instruments  of  it.  Wishing  and  willing  are 
so  diverse  that  it  would  seem  as  though  they  were  hardly  I'elated ; 
but  they  are.  It  is  true  that  the  will  is  generated  sometimes  from 
wishing ;  but  it  is  as  se«ds  become  plants — by  a  total  change.  Wish- 
ing, in  its  commoner  form,  is  merely  a  passive  state.  It  is  suscepti- 
ble of  impressions.  It  is  the  faint  recognition  of  excellence,  but 
without  a  purpose  or  a  power  of  doing,  or  being,  or  securing  that 
which  is  liked.  Doing  requires  concentration  of  purpose.  It  puts  the 
mind  into  harness.  It  arouses  the  reason,  the  will :  and  performance 
follows.  Wishing  may  take  place  without  any  of  these.  It  is  hardly  a 
desii'e  even.  It  is  but  the  shadow,  often, which  desire  casts  upon  a  man's 
soul.  There  is  as  much  difference  between  wishing  and  doing  as  be- 
tween liking  and  loving.  Men  like  a  great  many  folks  ;  they  love  but 
few.  Doing  has  both  hands  and  feet,  and  uses  them.  Wishing  has 
neither ;  or  else,  having  them,  puts  neither  of  them  to  use.  It  is  a 
passively  receptive  state.  Willing  brings  the  soul,  in  an  active, 
energetic  form,  upon  life.  Wishing  is  simply  that  state  in  which 
life  acts  feebly  upon  the  soul.  One  is  active,  and  the  other  is 
passive.  And  yet,  often,  well-wishing  passes  among  men  for  disposi- 
tion. Men  consider  themselves,  or  are  considered,  amiable  and  well- 
disposed  persons.  They  are  said  to  be  well-wishers  toward  their  kind 
who  never  think  about  their  kind ;  who  never  do  any  thing  for 
their  kind.  You  can  get  nothing  out  of  them,  and  there  is  nothing 
in  them ;  but  then — they  are  well-wishers  to  their  kind ! 

Feeble,  faintly-traced  characters  are  these,  that  have  not  the 
power  in  them  to  do  much  harm,  and  that  have  not  will  enough  to  do 
much  good,  but  that  hover,  as  a  sort  of  vibrating  negative,  all  their 
life  long,  wishing  well  to  people  ;  and  they  think  it  is  a  part  of  their  dis- 
position. As  they  are  never  moved  to  any  great  uproar,  as  they 
never  hate  soundly  and  roundly,  as  they  keep  themselves  from  many 
malicious  forms  of  evil,  they  think  they  must  be  pretty  good — particu- 
larly as  they  have  this  testimony  every  day,  that  tliey  wish  well  to 
men.  No  human  being  ever  got  one  particle  of  benefit  from  all  their 
well-wishing  ;  but  still — they  wish  Avell ! 

Now,  a  good  disposition  is  a  good  thing.  It  is  not  negative ;  it 
is  not  simply  the  absence  of  feeling — although  that  goes  in  part  to 
make  up  a  good  disposition  ;  but  a  real  good  disposition  is  an 
energetic  and  positive  development.     It  puts   itself  forth.     It  acts 


WELL-WISHING   NOT   WELL-DOING.  291 

with  beneficence.  A  man  of  a  good  disposition  has  his  faculties  like 
a  seal,  and  they  leave  their  impression  upon  whatever  they  are 
pressed  against.  A  well-wisher  leaves  no  more  impression  of  himself 
than  a  cloud  does  of  itself  on  the  field  over  which  it  passes.  Wish- 
ing requires  no  efibrt  and  no  power.  It  takes  nothing  from  the 
giver,  and  leaves  nothing  in  the  hands  that  take  it. 

I  read  an  exquisite  satire  upon  these  well-wishers  in  the  opening 
services  of  this  morning  : 

"  If  a  brother  or  sister  be  naked,  and  destitute  of  daily  food," 
says  James,  "  and  one  of  you  say  unto  them,  Depart  in  peace,  be 
ye  warmed  and  filled  ;  notwithstanding  ye  give  them  not  those 
things  which  are  needful  to  the  body ;  what  doth  it  profit  ?" 

But  he  was  a  well-wisher — he  wished  them  well ;  and  wished 
them  well  out  of  the  house  !     It  is  hinted  at  in  another  place  : 

"  If  a  man  thiuketh  himself  to  be  something  when  he  is  nothing, 
he  deceiveth  himself." 

That  is  precisely  the  portrait  of  a  weU-w'sher  "Well-wishing 
leads  men  to  believe  that  they  are  what  chey  wish  they  were  ;  or,  at 
any  rate,  that  they  are  not  far  from  it.  There  grows  up  an  impres- 
sion in  men's  minds  respecting  themselves,  which  is  not  so  much  the 
result  of  a  formal  process  of  investigation,  or  the  allegation  of  evi- 
dence, and  a  judgment  upon  it,  as  a  certain  sort  of  residuum  which 
is  the  result  of  a  long  series  of  vague,  unformed  feelings.  And 
among  these  results,  this  pale  family  of  well-wishers  come  to  think 
of  themselves  that  they  are  very  good ;  that  they  come  pretty  near 
being  what  they  wish  they  were.  They  are  good — that  is,  almost. 
They  are  Christians — not  professors,  not  active,  nothing  to  boast 
of;  but  Christians,  they  hope.  At  any  rate,  they  wish  they  were ! 
They  have  such  a  smiling,  kind,  genial  liking  for  Christians,  that 
really  they  come  to  doubt  if  they  have  not  themselves  become  saints 
— ^5cme-saints — at  any  rate,  the  seed  from  which  saints  will  sprout 
by  and  by.  They  would  not  be  very  j^ositive  —that  would  be  disso- 
nant ;  but  still  there  is  a  sort  of  good,  pleasant  shining  of  this  conceit 
in  the  nooks  of  their  experience,  and  they  wish  so  well  to  religion 
and  all  its  institutions,  that  probably  they  are  not  far  themselves 
from  religion. 

Yet  how  can  it  be  possible  that  any  person  should  have  such  a 
notion,  when  once  one  contemplates  the  suj^rerae  and  tremendous 
energy  and  positiveness  which  enter  into  the  scriptural  delineations 
of  Christian  character !  What  energy  there  is  in  the  sorrow  that  is 
required  for  sin !  What  a  might  in  tearing  one's  self  away  from 
courses  that  are  evil!  What  figures  ai'e  employed  when  language 
ceases  any  longer  to  be  an  expression  of  reality  !  IIow  are  they  said' 
to  be  "  dead  "  that  are  not  Christians  1  and  how  are  they  said  to  ba 


292  WELL-WI8EINa   NOT    WELL- DOING. 

"  born  again  "  when  they  are  Christians !  What  intense  virtues 
and  self-denials  are  enjoined !  Bearing  yokes,  bearing  the  cross 
itself,  sacrificing,  crucifying — these  are  the  figures.  They  are  not 
to  be  interpreted  literally,  and  often  are  misinterpreted  in  the  direc- 
tion of  asceticism  and  the  false  notion  of  self-denial ;  nevertheless, 
men  must  admit  that  the  moral  qualities  which  require  such  figura- 
tive language  as  this  are  any  thing  else  than  those  mild,  flavorless, 
moonshiny  well-wishes  which  many  persons  take  to  be  Christian 
virtues. 

Out  of  this  mild  deception  respecting  their  own  character,  comes 
also  a  mild  self-deceit.  For  I  have  noticed  in  persons  of  this  temper 
and  nature  a  state  of  mind  in  which  well-wishing  habitually  is  sub- 
stituted for  conscience.  Being  impressible,  having  very  little  with 
which  they  can  resist  the  incursions  of  reason  and  the  thrusts  of 
moral  truth,  when  men  come  under  the  influence  of  truth,  or  under 
the  stimulating  and  awakening  power  of  the  divine  Spirit,  and  are 
almost  moved  to  activity,  their  conscience  is  placated  very  soon 
with  an  unusual  amount  of  well-wishing.  And  they  are  so  amiably 
disposed !  they  are  so  much  in  favor  of  the  Bible !  they  are  so  much 
in  favor  of  the  church !  They  wish  well  to  all  the  people  of  the 
church ;  they  wish  well  to  God ;  they  wish  well  to  themselves. 
And  this  at  last  seems  to  them  like  an  answer  to  conscience.  At 
any  rate,  it  serves  this  purpose,  that  whereas  the  voice  was,  "  Rej^eut 
7iow^  here!''''  they  let  fall  their  well- wishes.  As  a  cloud  of  silvery 
mist  drops  down  over  a  ship,  and  shuts  it  in,  so  that  it  can  not  go 
any  further,  but  casts  anchor  and  waits,  so  conscience,  when  it  begins 
to  be  troublous,  is  shut  down  in  the  midst  of  this  silvery  mist  of  well- 
wishing.  So  that  a  well-wisher  is  one  of  those  persons  who  bid  fair 
to  wear  out  the  influence  of  appeals  of  the  Gospel  in  the  sanctuary. 
His  temperament  is  one  that  lasts  better  and  longer  than  any  other. 
It  is  peculiarly  Avell  endowed  with  general  vitality. 

There  are  many  of  the  lower  animals  that  are  vital  all  over,  but 
with  such  feeble  vitality  that  you  can  cut  oflT  slice  after  slice,  and 
leave  that  vitality  unharmed  ;  and  like  such  animals  are  those  per 
sons  who  have  a  generally  diffused  well-wishing  sensibility. 

After  a  time,  Avell-wishers  fall  into  a  sort  of  hallucination,  and 
suppose  that  they  have  what  they  like  in  otliers — of  course,  not  in 
any  power  to  speak  of,  but  in  a  kind  of  mild  form  !  That  is  their 
peculiar  temperament,  they  say. 

Now,  while  there  are  many  things  that  are  not  unpleasant  in  the 
contemplation  of  such  persons ;  while  tliere  is  a  certain  element  of 
agreeableness  in  a  mild,  negative  condition,  this  is  a  state  of  mind 
which  it  is  fatal  to  confound  with  a  true  Christian  experience.  Be- 
cause you  ai'e  good-natured,  because  you  are  gentle,  because  all  the 


WELL-WISEINa   NOT    WELL-DOING.  293 

offices  of  your  mind  are  performed  with  mildness,  because  you  have 
the  testimony  in  your  heart  that  you  wish  well  to  every  thing,  it  does 
not  follow  either  that  you  are  a  Christian,  or  that  you  are  near  becom- 
ing one.  On  the  contrary,  the  presumptions  are  that  a  mere  well- 
wisher  is  flir  from  true  religion,  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God,  far 
from  health,  and  far  from  safety.  For  religion  is  a  system  of  the 
most  positive  character.  It  is  a  system  which  can  not  be  embraced, 
it  is  a  life  which  can  not  be  prosecuted,  without  great  plenary, 
generic  volitions,  and  without  an  unintermitted  series  of  specific 
choices  or  wills. 

The  first  demand  which  is  made  of  every  man  is,  "  My  son,  give 
me  thine  heart."  Renounce  the  life  of  self-indulgence  and  of  selfish- 
ness. Turn  away  from  a  conception  of  life  which  makes  it  right  for 
you  to  use  all  the  powers  of  your  body,  and  all  the  powers  of  your 
soul,  for  the  production  of  efiects  for  your  own  j^leasure,  seeking 
your  own  good  either  in  your  person,  or  distributively  in  your  fami- 
ly, or  more  distributively  in  your  neighborhood ;  and  forsake  that 
life  of  either  direct  or  indirect  selfishness,  and  be  born  again  into  a 
new  life  in  which  the  prime  and  chiefest  feeling  is  love,  and  the  alle- 
giance which  love  bears.  "  Love  the  Lord  thy  Ood  with  all  thy 
heart,  and  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  strength,  and  with  all 
thy  mind,  and  thy  neighbor  as  thyself" 

This  is  the  beginning  of  religion ;  and  who  can  enter  upon  that 
state,  so  deep,  so  comprehensive,  running  down  through  life  so  con- 
tinuously to  the  very  end  of  it,  by  the  mild  instrumentality  of  a  happy- 
wish — by  well-wishing  ?  He  that  would  enter  into  the  kingdom  of 
God  must  enter  by  one  of  those  throes  that  are  like  birth-throes.  The 
soul  cries  out  as  the  child  in  birth  cries,  and  enters  into  the  new  life, 
not  as  one  feeble,  as  one  just  born,  but  in  pain  and  tribulation.  And 
no  man  can  begin  a  religious  life  except  by  putting  forth  such  con- 
scious volitions  and  purposes  as  reach  to  the  very  bottom  of  the  soul. 
Every  step  fui'ther  in  that  Christian  life  is  a  step  in  which  our 
hearts  are  to  rise  from  lower  stages  and  gradations  to  higher;  for  we 
are  to  follow  Christ.  No  man  can  literally  follow  him  as  the  apostles 
and  primitive  disciples  did.  That  which  was  to  thera  a  simple  literal 
reality,  becomes  a  figure  to  us.  They  did  walk  about  with  Christ, 
following  him.  "We  can  only  let  our  actions  follow  his  actions,  and 
from  day  to  day  be,  according  to  the  measure  of  our  power,  and  in 
our  special  spheres,  what  he  was  in  the  greatness  of  his  power,  and 
according  to  the  sphere  and  ofiice  Avhich  he  performed  on  earth. 
But  it  is  the  daily  life  in  which  a  man  is  obliged  to  put  forth  energy, 
consideration,  and  positiveness  peculiai'ly.  For  there  is  not  an  hour 
in  which  you  are  not  called  to  choose  between  selfishness  and  bene- 
volence ;  there  is  not  an  hour  in  which  you  are  not  called  to  chooso 


294  WELL-WISHINa   NOT   WELL-DOING. 

between  the  higher  and  the  lower;  there  is  not  an  hour  in  which  all 
the  best  notes  of  the  soul  do  not  sound,  and  in  which  all  the  heavenly- 
influences  do  not  appeal  to  the  higher  elements  of  the  soul.  Self-denial 
is  simply  that  by  which  we  renounce  the  .lower  faculties  for  the  sake  of 
the  higher.  It  is  painful  Avhen  it  is  first  practiced  ;  but  it  ceases  to  be 
painful  when  we  have  gained  a  victory,  and  are  enabled  to  act  easier 
from  a  higher  than  from  a  lower  motive.  And  those  sj^heres  in 
which  we  gain  victories  are  spheres  in  which  we  have  learned  to 
turn  an  influence  into  a  purpose ;  to  turn  a  mere  emotion  into  a  moral 
principle ;  to  turn  a  truth  into  a  habit,  so  that  it  is  automatic,  and  it 
learns  to  take  care  of  itself 

When  children  first  learn  to  walk,  every  step  is  a  little  bit  of  en- 
gineering ;  every  step  is  but  an  outlook  as  to  what  to  put  the  hand 
on,  and  what  to  lean  against.  But  as  the  child  grows,  it  learns  to 
walk  without  looking  for  any  support.  It  learns  to  walk  without 
thinking  that  it  is  walking.  And  still  better,  it  learns,  by  and  by, 
not  only  to  walk,  but  to  walk  in  perilous  places.  It  learns  not  only 
to  walk,  but  to  run ;  and  to  run  like  an  athlete  ;  and  it  goes  on  till 
its  powers  of  locomotion  are  so  completely  under  its  control  that  it 
uses  them  unconsciously.  He  learns  to  walk,  and  run,  and  leap,  and 
whirl,  and  perform  all  manner  of  athletic  movements  with  such  ease 
that  it  does  not  enter  into  the  young  man's  mind  that  there  is  any 
volition  connected  with  them. 

And  in  the  lower  forms  of  moral  life  we  are  at  last  enabled  to 
act  so.  "When  were  children — especially  if  we  were  under  rigo- 
rous government,  and  were  sensitive,  and  had  more  approbative- 
ness  than  conscientiousness — we  told  lies.  Because  a  child,  when 
he  is  pressed  down  by  a  government  that  he  is  afraid  of,  if  he  is 
very  sensitive  to  blame,  and  yet  very  strong  in  his  desires,  does 
not  dare  tell  the  truth.  Lying,  primarily,  is  cowai-dice  in  most 
children — in  well-bred  children ;  and  the  way  in  which  Ave  come  to 
them  forces  them  into  a  lie  as  a  kind  of  refuge  and  hiding-place. 
And  yet,  after  a  little  while,  as  the  child  groAvs  under  instruction, 
and  more  particularly  as  he  comes  to  the  development  of  his  reason 
and  moral  feelings,  and  as  he  begins  to  act  against  the  loAver  animal 
instincts,  such  as  deceit  and  cunning,  he  learns  to  tell  the  truth, 
though  it  costs  him  an  efibi-t.  The  cheek  reddens,  and  the  eye 
wavers ;  but  he  comes  back  to  it  and  tells  the  truth,  if  he  does  get  a 
whipping.  But  when  he  gets  still  further  up  along  the  line  of  man- 
hood, he  is  ashamed  of  a  lie.  And  in  respect  to  all  the  ordinary 
phases  of  life,  he  learns  to  tell  the  truth  Avithout  thinking  of  telling 
the  truth.  It  becomes  automatic.  It  is  only  in  professional  mai- 
lers that  men  feel  themselves  called  upon  to  lie,  or  think  themselves 
at  all  justified  in  telling  lies.     They  are  official  lies,  under  such  cir- 


WELL-WISHING   NOT    WELL-DOING.  295 

cumstances  !  A  physician,  a  surgeon,  a  lawyer,  or  a  clergyman,  may 
think  that  there  are  some  things  about  which  in  his  position  he  has 
good  and  sufficient  reason  for  falsifying ;  but  in  all  the  personal  in- 
tercourse of  men  with  one  another,  they  soon  come  to  that  state  in 
which  it  costs  them  not  a  struggle,  nor  even  a  thought  or  a  conscious 
volition,  to  tell  the  truth,  and  to  be  true.  They  have  reduced  one  de- 
partment of  their  life,  therefore,  to  an  automatic  condition. 

When  a  child  is  young,  he  purloins  naturally;  for  he  has  not 
learned  the  value  of  property.  He  steals  sweetmeats,  and  apples, 
and  candy,  and  nuts,  and  whatever  he  can.  But  at  last  the  rod  of 
correction  drives  the  habit  from  him ;  and  by  and  by  the  impulse  leaves 
him.  And  when  he  comes  to  be  sixteen  or  eighteen  years  of  age,  he 
scorns  the  conception,  he  has  so  grown  away  from  it.  It  is  not  hard 
for  you  and  me  to  be  honest.  A  man  might  leave  his  money  open 
to  me  all  day  and  all  night.  I  should  not  take  it.  It  is  not,  either, 
because  I  am  afraid  of  the  New- York  judges  !  It  is  nothing  of  that 
kind  that  holds  me.  I  have  something  in  my  bosom  that  is  mightier 
than  the  Avhole  system  of  the  judiciary.  It  is  I  that  will  not  do  it. 
I  have  learned  it.  I  have  come  to  that  state.  When  a  man  begins 
life,  he  may  be  rude,  and  harsh-spoken,  and  dictatorial ;  but  if  he 
grows  up  in  the  right  direction,  he  comes  at  last  to  that  state  of 
mind  in  which  kindness  is  the  law  of  his  life.  It  is  his  necessity. 
And  therefore,  when  little  children,  subordinates  and  others,  come 
around  about  him,  he  refrains  from  speaking  severely  or  cruelly,  not 
because  it  will  hurt  them,  but  because  it  will  hurt  him.  Men 
come  at  last  to  that  state  in  which  wrong-doing  is  like  one  of  old 
Queen  Anne's  muskets,  that  kills  at  the  muzzle  and  kicks  at  the  breach, 
the  reaction  at  one  end  being  about  as  much  to  be  feared  as  the  ex- 
plosion at  the  other  !  Therefore,  there  are  a  great  many  persons  who 
are  habitually  kind  and  genial  to  all  men,  not  because  they  say  every 
morning,  "  I  must  do  so,"'  but  because  the  sun  of  good-nature  rises  on 
their  souls  as  regularly  as  the  outward  sun  rises  upon  their  body. 
They  have  subdued  their  life  to  that  automatic  condition,  and  it  takes 
care  of  itself 

No  man  gets  every  thing  in  this  life  subdued  in  an  hour.  For  as 
you  go  up,  you  are  still  approaching  higher  and  higher  states,  and 
the  battle  is  ever  renewed.  New  elements,  new  sphei-es,  and  new 
combinations  of  them — broader,  stronger,  richer,  nobler — are  opening 
up,  and  the  Christian  life,  therefore,  is  one  of  perpetual  engineering. 
So  that  while  the  ^pace  between  you  and  your  beginning,  which  is 
now  reduced  to  an  automatic,  unconscious,  unthought-of  right  course, 
is  broadening,  you  are  perpetually  going  along  to  new  realms,  where 
there  is  to  be  new  volition,  new  battle,  new  victory.  And  after  a 
while,  right  action  will  become  so  habitual  with  us,  that  we  shall  for- 


296  WELL-WISHING   NOT   WELL-DOING. 

get  those  things  which  are  behind,  and  involuntarily  press  forward 
and  upward  toward  those  things  which  are  before. 

Now,  how  can  this  life,  which  is  most  tumultuous,  and  most  in- 
cessantly active,  and  most  real ;  which  is  characterized  by  nice  dis- 
criminations, reasonings,  longings,  and  yearnings,  followed  by  voli- 
tions and  attempts,  breakings  down  and  pickings  up  again,  and  new 
attempts — how  can  such  a  life  as  this,  made  iip  of  the  various  activ- 
ity of  every  faculty  of  the  whole  soul,  be  discharged  by  one  of  those 
children  of  the  moonbeam — well-wishers  ? 

Why,  I  should  as  soon  think  of  setting  the  pin-jBsh  of  the  river  to 
fight  against  the  sliarks  and  crocodiles  of  the  sea,  as  to  set  these  mild, 
feeble,  amiable  well-wishers  to  contend  against  those  vigorous  ad- 
versaries, those  mighty  agencies,  that  come  in  either  to  help  or  to 
hinder  their  entrance  and  their  progress  in  the  divine  life. 

Every  day  a  man  who  is  a  Christian  takes  up  his  cross  some- 
where. I  believe  that  men  will  come  to  that  state  in  which  it  will 
be  no  cross  for  them  to  do  any  thing ;  but  I  have  never  seen  a  man 
in  this  life  when  it  was  not  always  a  cross  for  him  to  do  some  duties. 
There  are  many  places  where  men  are  unconscious  that  it  is  any 
effort  for  them  to  do  right ;  but  if  a  man  tells  me  that  in  right-doing 
he  has  no  cross  to  take  up,  I  say  that  that  man  is  stultified  by  vanity. 
What !  a  man  has  grown  but  a  few  seasons  in  the  vineyard  of  the 
Lord,  and  he  thinks  he  has  got  his  utmost  growth  in  two  seasons,  or 
three  seasons,  or  four  seasons ;  and  he  says,  "  I  am  a  perfect  vine  " — 
by  which  he  means,  "  I  have  a  great  many  clusters,  and  all  these 
clusters  are  very  good."  But  go  and  see  what  a  vine  is  capable  of 
becoming.  See  how  by  training  it  may  thi'ow  out  branch  after 
branch,  and  spread  far  and  wide  over  trellis  or  wall.  See  how  vast 
is  the  sheeted  abundance  of  its  harvest.  One  vine,  well-trained,  is 
worth  more  than  half  an  acre  of  stunted  vines.  And  Avill  any  man 
tell  me  tliat  a  perfect  vine  covers  no  more  space  than  the  top  of  this 
desk,  when  its  proportions — the  length,  and  breadth,  and  height,  and 
depth,  to  which  it  is  capable  of  attaining — are  well-nigh  boundless  ? 
Every  day  that  a  man  lives,  he  has  this  field  of  attainment  before 
him  ;  and  it  is  a  matter  of  forethought  and  of  choice  between  a 
higher  and  a  lower  pain. 

When,  therefore,  you  look  at  the  whole  contents  of  a  Christian 
life,  you  see  how  utterly  impossible  it  is  that  a  person  should  enter 
upon  that  life  if  he  be  one  of  these  mild  sisters  of  the  light. 

These  are  the  people  who  are  always  found  in  great  numbers  in 
the  church  and  in  the  congregation,  and  who  always  seem  to  promise 
much,  but  never  get  any  further.  There  are  men  in  every  con- 
gregation who  are  kind  in  some  things,  and  particularly  in  religious 
matters.    Without  seeming  to  grow  materially  worse,  they  Tiever  seem 


WELL-WISnmG   NOT   WELL-DOING.  29V 

to  grow  any  better.  Where  you  found  them  ten  years  ago,  there 
you  find  them  to-day.  Their  face  has  grown  more  wrinkled.  Time 
has  done  its  work  upon  their  body.  Speak  with  them.  There  seems 
to  have  been  no  imjDress  of  the  divine  Spirit  within.  Just  where  they 
were  at  first,  there  are  they  now.  Ten  years  ago  they  were  told  that 
they  were  not  far  from  the  kingdom  of  God ;  they  think  that  they  are 
no  further  from  it  now.  They  are  living ;  and  there  is  nothing  in  this 
world  that  they  are  doing  except  amiably  wishing  well  to  every  thing. 
They  observe  Sunday ;  they  sustain  the  institutions  of  the  Gospel ; 
they  have  a  great  respect  for  the  minister  ;  they  feel  that  religion  is 
very  desirable ;  they  are  very  glad  when  their  neighbors  become 
Christians.  Oh  !  they  are  the  most  amiable  persons  in  the  world. 
There  they  stand,  or  there  they  sit,  just  where  they  were ;  and  there 
apparently  they  will  be  to  all  eternity ;  not  having  got  one  step  be- 
yond poor  miserable  roell-wishing. 

IsTow,  I  am  talking  to  some  of  you.  There  are  well-wishers  in 
this  congregation.  You  wish  me  well ;  you  wish  this  church  well ; 
you  wish  the  cause  well ;  you  wish  eveiy  body  well ;  you  would  not 
do  any  harm.  Ah  !  you  are  seeds  that  will  not  sprout,  though  you 
be  planted  never  so  many  times.  You  are  chafi!  There  is  no  seed  in 
you.  I  long  to  see  in  you  something  more  than  this  mere  negative  well- 
wishing — some  uprising;  some  sense  of  power;  some  heart-hunger; 
some  yearning  for  noble  things ;  some  indication  that,  when  quicken- 
ed by  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  there  is  in  your  soul  a  power  to 
stretch  out  branches,  to  push  out  dormant  buds,  to  have  clusters,  to 
bring  forth  fruit,  and  to  bring  it  forth  abundantly.  It  is  not  enough 
that  you  are  without  offence.  I  am  here  to  call  you  to  manhood,  to  a 
pure  and  holy  life,  and  to  say  to  you  that  a  holy  life  is  not  to  be 
gained  by  any  such  measures  as  by  merely  feebly,  gently  wishing 
for  it. 

These  persons  are  they  that  are  always  impressible ;  that  have 
hojjes  excited  in  them  frequently  ;  that  rise  under  a  sermon  to  that 
state  in  which  it  would  seem  as  if  the  wave  would  break.  But  no, 
never  !  There  is  no  crest  to  their  life.  They  roll  like  the  ripples  on 
an  inland  lake,  they  have  not  the  power  to  form  a  white  crest, 
and  they  die  beating  themselves  to  pieces  on  the  shore.  They  are 
always  exciting  hope,  and  never  rewarding  it  with  any  fruition. 

Such  men  frequently  become  patronizers  of  religion.  They  not 
only  are  mildly  useless,  but  if  they  be  men  who  have  inherent  in 
them  a  certain  principle  of  conceit,  they  become  talkers.  There  are 
a  great  many  Christians  of  the  porch — men  that  sit  in  their  boarding- 
houses  ;  in  the  summer  hall ;  at  the  Mansion  House  on  the  veranda  ; 
at  watering-places  through  the  summer.  They  lay  aside  their  occu- 
pation to  descant  upon  the  mild  virtues  of  Christianity,  and  to  ex- 


298  WELL- WISHING   NOT    WELL-DOING. 

press  their  opinion  as  to  the  benefit  which  society  derives  from  manv 
of  the  institutions  of  religion.  They  do  not  believe  in  excess — oh  no  ! 
They  do  not  belong  to  the  radical  party.  They  do  not  believe  in  any 
religion  that  is  of  a  disturbing  character.  Looking  upon  the  conflict 
that  is  going  on  in  the  world,  they  tell  you  that  there  is  some  selfish- 
ness among  men  (as  there  probably  is !)  They  look  upon  the  conflict 
of  the  Gospel,  and  give  it  as  their  opinion  that  it  ought  to  be  con 
ducted  on  principles  of  good  taste.  In  discussions  of  religious  sub- 
jects, they  are  in  favor  of  the  winning  side,  as  they  almost  always  are 
in  discussions  of  other  subjects.  They  patronize  virtue.  But  when 
you  talk  of  the  actual  experiences  of  religion,  then  they  mildly  shake 
their  heads,  as  though  they  did  not  want  to  say  any  thing  bad  about 
those  fanatics.  They  believe  in  morality,  although  they  do  not  be- 
lieve in  uproarious  religion.  Any  intensity  seems  to  disturb  the 
peacefulness  of  their  gentle  natures.  They  will  talk  with  you  by  the 
hour — especially  if  they  know  that  they  have  got  hold  of  a  minister, 
and  that  he  can  not  get  away  from  them !  And  they  give  expression 
to  their  general  approval.  They  approve  of  the  universe ;  they  ap- 
prove of  the  order  of  nature  ;  they  approve  of  grace  ;  they  approve  of 
the  church,  and  of  all  that  it  contains  ;  but  as  to  taking  any  part  in  reli- 
gion— oh  no  !  They  sit  as  Romans  used  to  sit  in  great  gladiatorial 
shows.  There  was  not  one  of  them  that  Avould  have  dared  to  go 
down  out  of  his  seat  into  the  arena  where  there  were  lions  and 
tigers  and  fierce  soldiers  fighting  blood  for  blood.  They  sat,  the  whole 
of  them,  wrapping  their  togas  around  them,  and  saying,  "  S2)lendid 
gladiators  they  !  Grand  courage  that !  Admirably  fought,  this 
fight !     Beautiful  spectacle  !     Never  was  any  thing  better  done  !" 

The  whole  world,  like  one  vast  arena,  lies  before  these  men.  We 
wage  war  not  with  flesh  and  blood,  but  with  principalities  and  pow- 
ers in  high  places ;  with  the  spirit  and  the  kingdom  of  darkness ;  and 
all  power  is  put  into  us  for  the  conflict ;  and  while  we  resist  selfish- 
ness, and  wrong,  and  corruption,  and  every  evil  way,  laying  heartily, 
Avith  all  manhood,  our  strokes  upon  the  devil  and  his  cause,  these 
mild  men  sit  with  gloves  on  their  little  velvety  hands,  and  say,  "  Very 
well  done  !     Very  nicely  fought !     Very  prettily  done  indeed  !" 

Is  there  any  thing  more  contemptible  ?  And  yet  your  boarding- 
houses  are  full  of  these  men.  These  are  the  dilettanti,  the  amateurs., 
the  comioisseiirs,  that  stand  outside  and  criticise.  Some  of  them  sneer, 
and  some  ridicule.  They  indulge  in  "  a  little  innocent  mi"th  !''  Their 
wit  is  not  very  explosive.  It  is  safe  to  carry  and  to  use  a  hundred 
times !  These  are  the  men  that  stand  in  the  way  of  young  men  and 
deter  them  from  becoming  Christians,  or  from  fulfilling  their  duties 
as  Christians,  by  exciting  in  them  a  feeling  of  shame. 

I  used,  in  going  from  Amherst  to  a  jilace  that  I  was  accustomed  to 


WELL-WISHma   NOT    WELL- DOING.  299 

frequent,  to  pass  tlirougli  Mill  Hollow,  where  there  was  often  a  light 
fog,  whicli  was  caused  by  the  condensation  of  the  rising  vapors;  but 
I  never  saw  the  time  when  I  was  afraid  to  go  through  that  fog. 
Yet  I  see  young  men  who  are  afraid  to  go  through  the  mist,  the 
sneers,  the  ridicule,  the  mild  remarks,  which  emanate  from  these 
well-wishers.  Oh  !  be  afraid  of  sand-flies,  be  afraid  of  mosquitoes, 
be  afraid  of  summer  insects,  be  afraid  of  butterflies,  if  you  will;  but 
what  are  you  worth  whom  a  butterfly  can  chase  down  ?  Ye  chil- 
dren of  holy  men  and  women,  ye  that  were  taught  in  your  child- 
hood to  revere  God's  word,  why  are  you  sneaking  away  from  the  re- 
cognition of  it,  not  daring  to  say  that  you  believe  it  ?  Just  be- 
cause these  patronizing  well-wishers  are  talking  in  your  presence, 
you  have  not  the  courage  to  go  against  them.  Ye  that  believe  in  the 
Holy  Ghost,  and  in  the  power  of  the  Spirit  of  God  to  change  the 
heart ;  ye  that  were  taught,  and  are  not  able  to  shake  ofl"  the  teach- 
ing, that  unless  you  be  born  again  you  can  not  see  the  kingdom  of 
God — you  are  led  by  the  nose  by  men  who  do  not  believe  any  thing ; 
who  are  mere  well-wishers.  Many  of  you  have  more  power  in  your 
little  finger  than  they  have  in  their  loins ;  and  yet  you  are  led  by 
them,  and  are  daunted  by  them. 

When  the  spiritual  and  the  carnal  desires  of  a  j^oung  man  are  so 
nearly  balanced  that  they  stand  at  equipoise,  it  only  takes  a  feather's 
weight  to  take  him  the  wrong  way ;  and  that  feather's  weight  is  fre- 
quently these  miserable  shadowy  creatures  that  hover  about  and  fre- 
quent places  of  intercourse  in  society ;  and  you  are  destroyed  by  that 
filmy  obstruction  that  is  thrown,  by  the  extremest  folly,  against  you 
and  against  your  spiritual  interest. 

Ah  !  how  much  better  it  would  be  if  you  were  the  rugged,  prompt- 
speaking,  ugly-tempered  first  son,  who  did  not  want  to  be  disturbed, 
and  did  not  want  to  go  to  work,  and,  when  his  father  said  to  him, 
"  Go  into  the  vineyard,"  replied,  "I  won't;"  and  then  said  to  himself, 
"  That  isn't  the  right  word  to  use,  after  all.  Father  ouglit  to  be  re- 
spected. I'm  not  going  to  unsay  it,  though ;  but  I'll  go  and  do  the 
thing  which  he  has  commanded."  That  is  a  kind  of  curmudireon 
goodness ;  but  is  it  not  better  than  the  spirit  manifested  by  the 
second  son  ?  The  father  said,  "  Go  work  to-day  in  my  vineyard  ;"  and 
the  son  said,  "  I  go,  sir ;"  but  afterward  he  said,  "  The  weather  is 
too  hot,  and  the  work  is  too  hard,  and  I  don't  believe  I  will,  after 
all.  But  no  matter ;  I  won't  say  any  thing  about  it :  let  it  go."  And 
he  lets  it  go. 

Do  you  know  that  one  of  the  most  terrific  truths  of  the  New 
Testament  is  coupled  with  this  very  history  that  I  have  been  speak- 
ing upon? 

"  Whether  of  them  twain  did  the  will  of  his  father  ?     They  say 


300  WELL-WISELS-Q   JVOT    WELL-DOWG. 

unto  him,  The  first.  Jesus  saitli  unto  them,  Yerily  I  say  unto  vou, 
That  the  publicans  and  the  harlots  go  into  the  kingdom  of  God  before 
you.  For  John  came  unto  you  in  the  way  of  righteousness,  and  ye 
believed  him  not :  but  the  publicans  and  the  harlots  believed  him  :  and 
ye,  Avhen  ye  had  seen  it,  repented  not  afterward,  that  ye  might  be- 
lieve him." 

If  I  "were  to  take  the  vote  of  prevalent  opinion,  men  would  say, 
"  All  rude  folks,  all  coarse  people,  all  the  people  on  the  street — who- 
ever else  is  lost,  they  will  be  lost ;  and  whoever  else  is  saved,  they 
will  be  condemned."  And  if  I  were  to  ask  further  of  all  that  name- 
less multitude  that  hover  on  the  edge  of  exact  gentility,  public 
opinion  would  say,  "  "Well,  though  they  are  not,  perhaps,  very  pro- 
nounced, yet  they  are  all  of  them  in  a  hopeful  way."  But  if  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  shoiald  come  and  pronounce  judgment  again,  he 
would  say  in  respect  to  a  thousand  rude  and  violent  men,  a  tliousand 
men  that  are  betrayed  by  their  passions,  a  thousand  daughters  of 
iniquity,  more  sinned  against  than  sinning,  "  They  shall  enter  the 
kingdom  of  God  quicker  than  the  well-wishing,  amiable,  mild  do- 
nothings  that  infest  the  respectable  circles  of  human  life  and  society." 

Bring  not  yourself,  then,  under  this  condemnation  of  the  Saviour. 
I  appeal,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  manly,  for  a  positive  life,  for  an 
earnest  life,  with  definite  ends,  with  continuous,  persevering  labor 
thrown  into  it.  I  spread  before  you  your  parentage.  Tou  are  God's 
children.  I  point  you  to  your  own  proper  home.  Heaven  is  your 
Fathers  house,  and  yours.  I  point  you  to  your  honor.  Honor  and 
glory  and  immortality  are  to  be  had  only  there.  I  point  you  to  your 
own  interest.  "  Godliness  is  profitable  unto  all  things,  having  pro- 
mise of  the  life  that  now  is,  and  of  that  which  is  to  come."  I  point 
you  to  your  safety.  For  "  if  God  be  for  us,  who  shall  be  against  us  ?" 
I  point  you  to  your  own  joy;  for  the  command  is,  "Rejoice,  and 
again  I  say  unto  you.  Rejoice."  I  warn  you  against  those  children 
of  folly  that  can  do  nothing  for  salvation.  To  every  man  and  every 
woman  that  has  a  soul,  and  is  conscious  of  it,  and  hears  its  beatings, 
and  in  its  beating's  finds  cravings  after  good  and  longings  for  immor- 
tality  in  a  higher  and  nobler  sj^here — to  you  I  say,  Come !  Christ 
calls  ;  he  seeks  for  disciples,  and  to-day  he  bids  me  say  to  you,  "  Re- 
pent, be  bom  again,  and  enter  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 


THE  OFFICE  OF  CHURCH  MUSIC* 

In  its  nature,  music  can  only  ui  a  remote  degree  be  instructive.  It  does  not  appeal 
to  the  intellect.  In  its  very  nature  it  is  addressed  to  tlie  taste  and  to  the  feeling-s. 
In  a  church  it  is  addressed  chiefly  to  the  religious  feelings.    Just  so  far  as  religion 

*  Eemarks.  in  connection  -with  the  announcement  of  certain  changes  in  the  manai^cment  of 
the  choir  of  Plymouth  Church. 


WELL-WISRIXG    XOT    WELL-BOEsG  301 

itself  is  connected  witli  our  social  emotions,  so  far  tlie  mnsic  of  the  sanctxmry  may 
be  addressed  to  tlie  excitation  of  social  feeling ;  just  so  mnch  of  it  as  can  be  em. 
ploved  in  heightening,  or  strengthening,  or  purifying  the  religious  feelings  may 
address  itself  to  taste ;  but  the  governing  principle  of  church  music  is,  not  that  it 
is  to  please  us,  but  that  it  is  to  please  us  to  edification. 

There  is  a  distinction  between  church  music  and  secular  music.  In  concerts  and 
oratorios,  mus'c  is  for  the  aesthetic  culture  and  amusement  of  men  ;  and  it  is  a  very 
noble  amusement — for  amusement,  properly  taken,  is  noble.  In  concerts,  if  you 
■wish  to  admire  gymnastic  facility,  if  you  wish  to  hear  played  utterly  unplayable  pas- 
sages— it  is  all  proper !  In  a  concert,  singing  six  notes  higher  than  the  human  voice 
can  go  is  all  right  I  Rapidity,  merely  to  show  how  fast  some  things  can  be  done,  is 
■well  enough  in  a  concert.  Tou  go  for  amusement ;  you  go  to  ha.ve  your  admira- 
tion excited ;  you  ^o  for  pleasure ;  and  there  is  no  harm  in  that.  But  in  a  church, 
display,  for  the  sake  of  display,  is  simply  abominable  !  Good-breeding  is  always 
in  the  direction  of  simplicity.  Tou  can  always  tell  a  new-made  man,  a  man  that 
has  suddenly  come  to  his  manners,  by  a  certain  sort  of  officiousness  and  presenta- 
tion of  hunself.  There  is  a  kind  of  declarative  element  in  him.  He  is  showy. 
By  changing  the  office  of  the  senses,  a  term  has  come  to  be  used  ■which  is  very 
significant  as  applied  to  such  a  person  :  as  if  the  eyes  that  see  these  things,  heard 
them,  he  is  said  to  be  loud.  Frequently,  in  churches,  every  thing  is  keyed  to  the 
production  of  admiration — of  what  are  called  sensational  effects.  But  nothing 
can  be  in  •worse  taste  in  religion  or  in  manners  than  this  ostentatious  unquietnes-s, 
this  kind  of  emphasis  which  is  given,  whether  it  be  to  conduct  or  to  music.  For 
music  in  the  sanctuary  of  God  is  designed  to  excite  states  of  mind  which  are  reli- 
gious, or  out  of  which  religion  can  easily  grow. 

Therefore,  it  is  in  bad  taste  to  play  the  organ  so  as  to  let  folks  know  what  a 
splendid  organ  we  have  got  I  It  is  in  bad  taste  to  play  the  organ  so  that  people 
shall  say,  "  Well,  you  have  got  an  organist  that  is  worthy  of  your  instrument." 
That  is  not  what  you  go  to  church  for.  It  is  in  bad  taste  to  play  the  organ  so  that 
people  ■will  say,  "  There  is  the  place  to  go  and  hear  Bach,  and  Beethoven,  and  those 
great  masters  of  the  best  schools  of  music."  This  organ  is  God's  servant.  Its 
business  is  to  take  you,  when  you  come  into  this  congregation,  and,  as  it  were, 
blow  away  the  cares  of  the  world  that  have  settled  on  you.  And  if  it  does  not 
bring  you  at  once  into  truly  religious  feelings,  it  should  bring  you  into  that  condi- 
tion of  susceptibility  out  of  which  a  devotional  state  of  mind  -will  easily  spring.  The 
business  of  the  organ  is  not  to  pierce  between  every  two  verses  of  the  hvmns  some- 
thing of  which  people  wUl  say,  "  That  is  fine  as  a  fiddle  !"  That  is  impertinent 
organ-playing.  Interludes,  while  they  are  designed  to  give  you  breathing-time 
and  rest  when  you  are  singing,  are  also  designed  to  take  the  thought  of  the  verse 
that  has  just  been  sung,  and  carry  it  out ;  or  else  to  take  the  sentiment  of  the  next 
verse,  and  express  that.  Interludes  are  not  mere  txceedUdums  and  ticeedledees 
thro-vjTi  in  for  the  sake  of  tickling  the  ear.  Their  office  is  to  catch  the  spirit  of 
the  preceding  or  the  following  verse,  and  give  it  expression.  If  they  do  not  do 
that,  they  are  worse  than  useless,  and  had  better  be  omitted.  Where  an  organist 
has  not  the  faculty  of  expressing  the  sentiment  of  a  veree  better  than  it  is  ex- 
pressed by  singing,  he  had  better  not  play  interludes — except  so  far  as  chords 
drawn  out  long  enough  to  give  the  singers  an  opportimity  to  breathe  and  to  rest 
may  be  called  interludes. 

After  the  sermon,  there  is  the  pl-aying  out.  As  there  is  the  introit,  so  there  is  the  ex- 
troit.  And  the  object  of  this  playing  at  the  close  of  service  is  to  carry  out  the  general 
impression  of  the  discourse.  If  the  whole  sermon  has  been  cheerful  and  hopeful, 
we  should  expect  the  organ  to  be  joyous  and  triumphant  ^within  the  bounds  of 


302  WELL-WISEmG   NOT    WELL-DOmG. 

religious  feeling.  If  it  is  a  stimi^lating,  stirring  discourse,  not  improperly  the 
organ  miglit  be  patriotic,  national.  If  the  sermon  is  addressed  to  tlie  conscience 
and  the  serious  feelings,  it  is  in  bad  taste  for  the  organ  to  be  clamorous  and 
uproarious.  It  should  carry  out  the  general  feeling,  taking  the  theme,  it  may  be, 
from  the  tune  last  sung.  Nothing  can  be  wiser  or  more  skillful  than  to  take  the 
general  impression,  if  one  has  the  moral  nature  to  catch  it,  and  give  it  a  musical 
expression,  as  the  audience  is  going  out  of  the  church.  It  is  all  regulated  by  this 
one  principle  :  Vanity  is  hateful ;  showiness  is  hateful.  The  only  tiling  that  should 
regulate  church  music  is  the  idea  that  it  must  have  a  relation  to  the  production 
of  religious  feeling. 

If  he  were  not  here,  I  would  say  that  the  reason  why  I  like  our  organist  [Mr. 
John  Zundkl]  is,  that  I  think  he  has  had  given  him  the  talent  to  conduct  instru- 
mental music,  with  various  degrees  of  success,  according  to  moods  and  circumstan- 
ees,  for  the  production  of  religious  and  moral  feelings ;  that  he  has  these  feelings 
himself,  and  expresses  them  ;  and  that  while  his  playing  may  sometimes  be  less  bril- 
liant and  complicated  and  showy  than  he  could  make  it,  it  is  so  for  the  same  reason 
that  a  man  makes  his  prayers  with  far  less  rhetoric  than  he  could  if  he  undertook 
to  make  a  show.  Music,  in  the  presence  of  God,  and  in  the  service  of  God,  should 
have  a  sobriety  which,  though  it  be  sober,  is  this  side  of  dullness,  and  is  effective 
upon  the  understanding,  the  imagination,  the  heart,  and  the  feelings.  And  I 
would  say  that  if  in  preaching  I  owe  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  any  body,  I  owe  it  to 
this  my  collaborator,  often  and  often.  And  if  you  do  not  owe  him  any  thing,  I  am 
sorry  for  you. 

As  to  the  singing  of  the  church,  it  may  take  as  wide  a  range  as  you  please, 
within  the  bounds  of  religious  effects,  or  the  tendency  to  produce  religious  effects. 
Showy  music  ought  to  be  excluded.  You  ought  to  help  me  to  exclude  it  from  this 
church.  I  shall  fight  against  it,  with  your  help  or  without  it ;  but  I  am  confident 
that  I  shall  have  your  aid.  I  believe  that  your  feelings  harmonize  with  mine  on 
this  question. 

Here  let  me  add  a  word  to  those  who  are  ovitside.  Many  people  who  come  to 
Plymouth  Church  come  with  the  impression  that  they  can  do  as  they  please. 
Presbyterians,  Episcopalians,  and  men  of  other  denominations,  when  they  go  to 
their  own  church,  instantly  settle  down  in  their  seat,  and  are  very  quiet  and  seri- 
ous and  reverential ;  but  when  they  come  here,  they  chatter,  and  look  around,  and 
seem  to  think  that  they  have  come  to  an  entertaining  place.  I  know  they  do  not 
belong  to  Plymouth  Church  by  the  way  they  act,  frequently.  Because  our  people, 
while  they  are  social  both  before  the  services  begin  and  after  the  services  close, 
confine  their  intercourse  within  the  bounds  of  their  religious  feelings.  That  is  to 
say,  it  has  a  relation  to  the  legitimate  objects  for  which  they  have  assembled. 
They  are  not  social  as  they  would  be  in  a  place  of  amusement. 

I  do  not  think  that  a  man  who  goes  into  a  church  that  is  half  dark,  and  sits 
down  like  an  unconvicted  criminal,  and  does  not  dare  to  look  up,  or  whisper,  or  say 
a  word,  is  fit  to  worship  my  God.  My  God  does  not  live  in  darkness,  but  in  love,  and 
smiles,  and  gladness ;  and  he  desires  that  his  people  shall  be  happy ;  and  it  is 
not  displeasing  to  him  that,  when  you  come  here,  you  should  exchange  little 
neighborly  kindnesses  and  good-will  to  each  other.  I  think  such  intercourse  is 
doing  you  good  ;  and  I  encourage  it  and  enjoin  it,  because  I  think  that  frequently 
you  rise  to  your  religious  feelings  through  social  enjoyment.  But  when  other 
people  come  here,  and  bring  their  newspapers  and  little  secular  amusements,  and  . 
Bit  and  chatter  and  gaze  about,  be  kind  enough  to  say  to  them  that  we  have  a  con- 
secrated social  feeling  in  this  church.  To  come  here,  as  to  a  ball-room,  does  not  com- 
port with  the  spirit  of  Plymouth  Church.   I  woiJd  not  say  to  little  children,  after  the 


WELL-WISHING   NOT   WELL-DOING.  303 

service  5s  over, "  Do  not  speak  a  word  going  home."  I  would  say  to  tliem,  "  Sing, 
little  birds,  and  be  as  happy  as  you  can."  I  would  not  say  to  you,  "  Abstain  from 
all  conversation  that  is  not  of  a  religious  nature."  I  would  say,  "  Shake  hands 
with  each  other,  and  greet  each  other  in  cordial  sympathy."  Do  not  speak  of 
worldly  things  unduly  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  do  not  be  afraid  to  speak  of  world- 
ly things,  if  you  have  good  reasons  for  so  doing.  You  are  God's  children,  not  God's 
slaves.  You  are  free  ;  and  it  becomes  you  to  exercise  your  liberty  in  the  spirit  of 
love — and  religious  love. 

With  these  few  simple  statements  I  think  you  have  the  root-principles  of  the 
administration  of  this  church  from  the  beginning.  Many  persons  have  not  under- 
stood them  ;  or,  understanding  them,  have  misrepresented  them.  Of  coui'se  many 
will  misrepresent ;  for  that  is  what  they  come  for.  They  want  something  to  say  ; 
and  they  are  disappointed  if  they  do  not  get  it.  And  yet  you  know  that,  deeper 
than  every  other  thing,  and  more  influential  than  any  other,  has  been  the  spirit  of 
true  religious  feeling,  deep  spirituality ;  and  that  all  these  services  which  we  em- 
ploy are  but  instruments  for  producing  religious  feeling. 

I  do  not  believe  in  the  old  sacrificial  system,  by  which  men  confounded  awe 
and  fear  with  religion.  I  believe  in  the  New  Testament,  which  teaches  us  that 
God  is  Father,  that  the  Christian  is  a  child,  that  religion  is  love,  and  that  love  is 
happiness  and  cheerfulness.  I  belong  to  the  cheerful  party ;  to  the  hopeful  party  ; 
to  the  loving  party ;  to  the  free  party  ;  not  to  men  of  frowns  and  darkness  and 
gloom  and  fear.  Let  them  worship  in  their  way,  and  we  will  worship  in  ours.  We 
belong  to  the  New  Testament,  and  a  New  Testament  church,  and  that  is  the  reason 
why  we  act  as  we  do — only  I  wish  we  acted  better ! 


PRAYER    BEFORE    THE    SERMON. 

We  come  to  thee  this  morning,  O  onr  Father  1  because  thou  wantest  us,  and  hast  sent  for  us. 
Our  hearts  have  heard  thy  voice,  and  we  rejoice  that  we  are  needed.  "We  rejoice  that  even  m.  all 
the  fullness  of  thy  nature  and  the  royalty  of  thy  kingdom  thy  little  children  afar  off  are  unforgot- 
ten,  and  that  thy  heart  is  richer  for  them.  Though  we  bring  crude  and  imperfect  dispo-.?itions, 
lives  that  are  shattered  -with  evU,  slowly  rebuilding  and  yet  utterly  imperfect,  thou  art  pleased 
with  such.  Thou,  O  Lord  !  art  thyself  the  Workman.  Silently,  and  with  unseen  hands,  tliou  art 
fashioning  us,  building  us  up,  as  the  temples  of  God,  that  yet  one  day  we  may  be  as  beauteous  as 
we  now  are  imperfect,  as  joyous  as  we  now  are  wretched,  and  as  pure  as  we  now  are  sinful,  that 
thou  mayest  present  us  in  the  great  day  of  glory  before  thy  Father's  throne  without  bk-misli  or 
spot.  And  because  thou  art  embarked,  and  all  thy  soul  is  glad  in  thy  work,  we  have  hope.  For 
if  it  were  left  to  us,  to  our  ever-changing  fancies  and  purposes,  to  grope  our  way  through  delu- 
sive and  deluding  ideas  of  what  is  perfect  manhood ;  if  we  were  from  day  to  day  warped  or 
biased  by  tlie  mighty  influences  that  surround  us  from  without;  if  we  were  left  only  to  the  sta- 
bility of  our  own  wills,  who  of  us  would  ever  attain  unto  blessedness  ?  But  thou  that  dost  shape 
the  courses  of  the  stars,  thou  that  dost  hold  the  whole  universe,  even  as  the  charioteer  his  steeds 
— thou  dost  guide  us,  and  our  thoughts  are  following  the  channels  appointed  of  thee,  and  we  are 
being  moved,  unconsciously  yet  really,  by  thy  great  power,  and  moved  toward  perfection,  and 
iiouor,  and  glory,  and  immortality. 

Forbid  that  any  of  us  should  resist  and  throw  ourselves  out  from  this  influence.  Forbid  that 
any  of  us  should  tread  this  sweet  influence  under  our  feet.  Forbid  that  any  of  as  should  do 
despite  to  the  Spirit  by  which  we  are  sanctified  and  saved.  Forbid  that  we  should  grieve  the 
Holy  Ghost.  Grant  that  we  may,  with  all  our  hearts,  be  workers  together  with  God  in  the  per- 
fection of  righteousness,  in  a  holy  fear  and  love. 

Bless  us  this  morning.  Draw  near  to  those  whose  opening  lips  declare  their  need  of  thee  and 
of  thy  forgiveness.  Deepen  in  every  one  the  sense  of  sinfulness.  And  since  that  brings  us  to 
th?e,  grant  that  we  may  have  more  and  more  every  day  a  consciousness  of  the  wide  space  which 
there  is  between  what  we  mean  and  what  we  do,  between  our  performance  and  that  law  and  that 
example  which  thou  hast  set  before  us.  ]\Iay  we  not  be  puffed  up.  Let  not  our  small  attainments 
and  slight  advances  fill  us  with  conceit  of  our  excfllencp,  and  virtue,  and  power.  Evermore  may 
we  look  unto  Jesus.  May  we  see  in  him  that  which  shall  fill  us  with  gladness.  May  we  never 
look  into  our  own  hearts  to  find  reasons  of  joy  therein.    Since  we  are  s  lUied,  since  we  are  low 


304  WELL-WISEING   IfOT    WELL-DOING. 

in  temper  and  life,  far  from  God  and  far  from  perfectness,  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  Trilt  hear 
the  confcsi^ions  which  thy  servants  make  this  morning.  May  they  nofbe  afraid  to  confess.  May 
they  not  be  afraid  to  look  their  sins  iu  the  face  and  call  them  as  sinful  as  they  are.  May  they  not 
seek  to  hide  from  themselves  what  they  never  can  hide  from  God.  May  they  look  upon  their  de- 
partures from  the  right  way,  upon  their  pride  and  its  works,  upon  selfishness  and  its  brood, 
upon  all  their  malign  passions,  upon  their  appetites,  upon  their  various  ways  and  the  fruits  there- 
of; may  they  behold  their  whole  interior  self;  and  may  they  confess  before  God  their  great  sin- 
fulness— not  as  if  confession  were  enough,  but  with  earnest  cry  that  thou  wouldst  not  only  for- 
give, but  that  thou  wouldst  help  in  time  of  need  against  easily  besetting  sins. 

And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  kindle  in  many  a  heart  this  morning  a  sense  of  grati- 
tude for  thy  help.  May  God's  grace  in  times  past  rise  up  in  memory  to-day.  May  we  think  of 
the  way  in  which  we  have  been  led,  of  the  wondrous  mercies  which  have  descended  upon  us . 
They  have  come  multitudinous  as  the  dew,  but  they  have  come  as  stUl.  And  as  we  remember 
not  from  day  to  day  or  from  year  to  year  the  drops  of  the  evening  dew,  so  do  we  forget  thy  gra- 
cious influences.  But  bring  us  some  days  of  remembrance ;  some  days  in  which  we  shaU  see 
how  wondrous  has  been  the  light  of  attending  grace,  by  which  we  have  thus  far  been  saved.  For 
by  the  grace  of  God  we  are  what  we  are. 

Grant,  if  there  be  those  this  morning  who  have  begun  to  live  a  divine  life,  and  who  earnestly 
desire  to  rise  higher,  to  be  stronger,  and  to  attain  to  the  proportions  of  true  Christian  manhood, 
that  the}'  may  remember  that  thou  hast  said,  they  who  hunger  and  thirst  after  righteousness 
shall  be  filled  ;  and  bring  to  them  the  blessed  assui-ance  that  if  they  meet  with  toU,  and  if  they  are 
rebufled  at  times,  and  if  they  are  in  conflicts  where  they  seem  overtempted  and  about  to  perish, 
it  is  so  that  God  succors  and  fulflUs  his  promises  for  grace  and  growth.  And  may  none  be  dis- 
couraged by  reason  of  the  greatness  of  the  way. 

We  beseech  of  thee,  O  Lord !  that  if  there  are  any  that  are  lying  becalmed,  round  about 
whom  shut  down  the  thick  fogs,  so  that  they  can  not  see  aught  in  the  heaven  above  or  upon  the 
earth  beneath,  they  may,  in  their  doubts  and  uncertainties,  have  that  anchor,  at  least,  which 
entereth  into  that  which  is  within  the  vail,  sure  and  steadfast.  May  they  not  let  go  the  con- 
fidence of  their  foith  and  the  hope  of  their  reward ;  but  may  they,  if  need  be,  lie  upon  their  oars 
and  wait  for  day. 

We  beseech  of  thee,  O  God  !  that  thou  wilt  draw  near  to  any  that  are  tempted  and  imperiled  ; 
to  the  young  that  are  in  the  midst  of  the  snares  of  life  and  its  temptations.  Deliver  thou  them. 
Let  there  be  no  more  victims.  Let  no  more  pass  through  the  Are  to  Moloch.  Let  no  more  be 
cast  down  in  their  youth  or  infancy,  that  they  may  be  destroyed  of  demons. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  look  with  great  compassion  upon  all  that  are  out  of  the 
way.  How  many  are  there  that  the  Sabbath-bells  sliould  have  called  hither  to-day  that  are  far 
from  God  and  far  from  the  sanctuary  !  But  we  send  out  for  them  our  thoughts  and  our  prayers. 
How  many  are  there  this  day  who  care  not  for  their  fathers'  God  !  How  many  are  there  who 
have  wandered  from  virtue!  How  many  are  there  that  are  cast  down  wounded  1  O  thou  that 
dost  go  forth  to  seek  and  to  save  the  lost,  look  after  thy  little  ones.  Look  after  those  that  are 
about  to  be  destroyed.  And  by  the  greatness  of  thine  own  power  do  that  which  seems  impossi- 
ble to  men.  Save,  O  our  Lord !  and  restore  and  make  whole,  those  that  are  perishing.  And 
grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  our  faith  may  never  fail — that  we  may  hold  fast.  If  we  lose  faith  in 
men,  and  if  all  that  sight  brings  us  is  full  of  despair,  may  we  never  lose  faith  in  God. 
Still  may  we  hold  fast  to  thee,  and  to  thy  covenant  promises,  and  plead  in  prayer,  and  never  grow 
weary. 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  there  may  be  witnesses  raised  up  from  the  very  mouth  of  perdition. 
May  there  be  those  that  shall  have  a  song  in  their  mouth,  and  a  testimony  on  their  lips,  for  the 
salvation  which  thou  hast  wi'ought  upon  them.  We  pray  that  there  may  be  many  turned  from 
error,  and  from  evil  and  darkness  back  to  light.  And  may  our  land  resound  with  the  songs  of 
victory,  and  thy  name  be  honored  and  glorified  in  simiers  found  and  restored. 

Bless,  we  pray  thee,  all  the  churches  in  this  great  city,  and  in  the  great  city  near  us,  and  in 
our  land,  and  throughout  the  world.  Grant  that  dissensions  may  cease,  and  that  the  unity  of 
love  may  heal  all  separations,  and  that  men  may  learn  to  love  thee,  and  each  other  in  thee,  and 
to  bear  and  forbear  with  each  other.  And  in  thy  great  work  against  the  adversary  which  comes 
in  perpetually  upon  us,  grant  that  we  may  be  united,  and  that  thy  church,  no  longer  rent  and 
divided,  may  be  mighty,  through  God,  for  the  pulling  down  of  strongholds. 

And  advance,  we  beseech  of  thee,  all  the  interests  of  civilization  throughout  the  world.  May 
education  everywhere  burn  brightly  as  the  morning-star.  Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  iu  our  land 
schools,  and  colleges,  and  seminaries  for  the  diflusion  of  knowledge  may  come  up  in  remem- 
brance before  thee.  And  may  our  people,  intelligent,  be  also  virtuous  :  and  may  virtue  go  on  to 
piety  ;  and  may  this  whole  land,  and  all  nations,  be  gathered  into  thy  kingdom. 

These  things  we  ask  for  Christ's  sake.    Amen. 


XX. 

Spheee  of  the  Christia]^  Mentister 


SPHERE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTER. 


SUNDAY   EVENING,    JANUARY   24,    1869. 


"  And  Paul  said  unto  fhem,  Sirs,  I  perceive  that  tMs  voyage  vnll  be  witli  hurt 
and  much  damage,  not  only  of  the  lading  and  ship,  but  also  of  our  lives.  Never- 
theless, the  centurion  believed  the  master  and  the  owner  of  the  ship,  more  than 
those  things  which  were  spoken  by  Paul." — Acts  xxvii.  10,  11. 


I  SUPPOSE  that  we  should  have  done  just  the  same.  Paul  was  a 
landsman.  What  did  he  know  about  navigation  ?  He  was  a  foreign- 
er; and  the  Roman  centurion  had  no  great  respect  for  Jews.  No- 
body has  respect  for  persons  that  are  not  born  in  the  nation  that 
they  are.  He  was  a  captive — and  that,  too,  threw  discredit.  And 
now,  to  intermeddle,  or  give  advice  which  was  not  asked  for,  seemed 
ungracious  enough.  And  so  the  centurion  said — just  as  you  would 
have  said ;  just  as  I  should  have  said — "  This  is  a  matter  that  I  would 
rather  take  the  testimony  of  the  ship-master  and  the  owner  about, 
than  yours."  And  the  voyage  wen,t  on,  and  it  all  came  as  Paul  had 
declared  ;  and  he  had  that  sweet  opportunity  that  every  body  longs 
for,  of  saying,  "  I  told  you  so."  For,  after  great  storms  and  long  ab- 
stinence, Paul  stood  forth  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  said,  "  Sirs,  ye 
should  have  hearkened  unto  me,  and  not  have  loosed  from  Crete,  and 
to  have  gained  this  harm  and  loss.  And  now  I  exhort  you  to  be  of 
good  cheer,"  For  with  every  one  of  these  discrediting  circumstances 
the  manhood  of  Paul,  his  sagacity,  his  remarkable  foresight,  his  apt- 
ness at  command,  and  all  these  qualities  summed  up  in  those  others 
that  go  to  make  a  leader  among  men,  so  shone  out,  that,  wlien  it 
came  to  the  extremity,  this  Roman  centurion — who  was  a  man,  (and 
the  presumption  always  is  that  a  Roman  centurion  was  a  mem,  and  a 
good  man,  just  and  excellent) — at  the  last  marked  him.  And  having 
had  nn  opportunity  of  seeing  the  captain  in  danger,  and  the  owner 
in  danger,  and  the  crew  and  soldiers  in  danger,  he  picked  out  Paul. 
The  Jewish  captive  was  the  man,  and  thereafter  the  centurion  did 
as  Paul  commanded  him.  So  that  Paul,  at  the  end  of  the  voyage, 
although  it  was  disastrous,  commanded  the  captain,  and  the  owner, 

Lesson  :  Acts  xxvii.  1-25.    Hymns  (PIjTnouth  Collection) :  Nos.  180,  510,  930. 


306  SPHERE  OF  THE  CHFdSTIAN  MINISTER. 

and  the  crew,  and  the  soldiers,  and  the  centurion,  and  had  charge  of 
every  thing  on  board,  and  finally  of  the  islanders  themselves,  when 
they  were  wrecked.  A  true  man  shows  that  he  is  true  at  that  very 
point  where  other  men  break  down. 

There  are  two  points  of  sensitiveness  among  men,  both  of  which 
are  illustrated  in  this  history.  Men  are  sensitive  to  the  interference 
of  moral  elements  with  their  secular  liberty.  First,  men  do  nDt  like 
to  have  ministers  meddle  with  their  business ;  they  know  better 
than  ministers  do  their  own  affairs,  they  think.  Secondly,  men  aro 
sensitive  to  non-professional  advice  from  any  body.  The  assumption 
is,  that  there  is  no  man  that  can  understand  the  affairs  of  any  given 
pjihere  or  department  so  well  as  he  that  is  engaged  in  it.  These  two 
considerations  are  the  germs  of  my  sermon  to-night. 

1.  Men  are  jealous,  and  they  are  indignant  often,  at  clergymen's 
attempting  to  meddle  Avith  the  affairs  of  society,  and  Avith  their  per- 
sonal and  private  affairs.  I  do  not  wonder  at  it.  And  Avhen  clergy- 
men are  associated  in  a  class,  with  arrogant  pretensions,  men  ought 
to  resent  their  intrusion. 

There  are  two  theories  on  which  the  clerical  profession  is  organ- 
ized. The  one  holds  that  there  is  a  body  of  men  taken  up  by  God's 
appointment,  and  set  apart  from  human  life,  and  endowed  with 
special  prerogatives,  and  given  special  virtues  ;  and  that,  as  a  class, 
they  stand  above  their  fellow-men  in  authority  in  moral  things.  But 
there  has  never  been  an  order  of  clergy  established  in  the  church  or 
in  the  state  tliat  has  not  been  mischievous,  and  there  never  will  be. 
The  moment  that  you  establish  men  into  a  class,  and  make  them  be- 
lieve that,  on  account  of  some  divine  arrangement,  they  hold  j^owers 
superior  to  those  which  belong  to  their  own  individual  personality — 
that  by  virtue  of  their  profession  they  ai'e  more  and  other  than  their 
fellow  men — that  very  moment  you  vitiate  their  character,  and  so 
vitiate  their  influence.  All  members  of  a  hierarchy — that  is,  an  aris- 
tocracy of  clergy — all  members  of  high  ecclesiastical  organizations,  are 
to  be  repelled  in  their  intrusions  upon  society,  because  they  work,  not 
for  society,  but  for  a  class  in  society.  This  vice  is  inherent  in  such 
organizations.  And  however  much  individual  men  may  rise  above 
the  temptations  of  their  circumstances,  the  great  body  of  an  aristo- 
cracy Avill  work  for  an  ai-istocracy.  The  great  body  of  a  special  class 
in  politics  will  work  for  their  class ;  and  a  body  of  clergymen  will 
■work  for  themselves.  Esprit  de  corps  will  spring  up  among  tliera, 
and  the  influence  of  the  whole  class  will  be  to  work  for  the  clergy. 

Then  there  is  another  theory  on  which  clergymen  are  built.  It  is 
held  that  a  man  may,  moved  by  his  own  good  sense,  by  his  own 
moral  aptitudes,  become  a  teacher  of  moral  ideas  in  a  community.  He 
is  not  endowed  with  any  gifts  beside  those  which  belong  to  any  other 


SPHERE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTER.  307 

men  of  liis  mark  or  make.  And  the  fact  that  he  becomes  a  moral 
teaclier  gives  him  no  special  divine  powei\  No  special  grace  passes 
over  into  him,  either  by  the  touch  of  priestly  hands,  or  through  any 
long  channel  derived  from  the  apostles.  Pie  is  what  he  is  by  the 
grace  of  God  in  the  ordinance  of  his  birth,  and  in  the  processes  of  his 
education — just  that.  And  he  derives  just  as  much  power  as  he  can 
exert — not  a  bit  more,  and  not  a  bit  less.  He  is  just  like  another 
man.  Call  up  a  layman  that  is  his  equal  in  intelligence,  that  is  his 
equal  in  moral  power,  with  his  simplicity,  sincerity,  and  directness, 
and  that  layman  is  just  as  much  as  he  is.  There  is  nothing  in  ordina- 
tion ;  there  is  nothing  in  the  imposition  of  hands.  God's  ordination 
lies  in  birth.  That  is  the  grand  ordination.  And  when  to  that  is 
given  afterward  the  sanctifying  influences  of  the  Spirit,  in  a  form 
which  belongs  to  one  just  as  much  as  to  another,  it  is  a  j^art  of  the 
prerogative  of  universal  liberty.  It  does  not  belong  to,  and  can  not 
be  appropriated  by,  the  clergy,  nor  any  rank  or  influence  in  society, 
nor  in  the  church.  When  to  the  original  endowment  is  added  the  in- 
spiration of  God's  Spirit,  which  is  given  to  him  and  to  others,  then 
he  is  what  ?  He  is  just  what  he  is — no  more  and  no  less — a  force  in 
society. 

There  has  been  a  great  deal  of  jealousy  about  ministers  mixing  in 
public  afiiiirs  ;  and  if  it  is  directed  against  the  c/«s5-clergy,  I  partici- 
pate in  it.  None  shall  surpass  me  in  unwillingness  that  clergymen 
should  become  a  class.  I  will  not  permit  any  body  to  make  me  a 
member  of  a  class.  I  say  that  I  am  simply  a  citizen,  and  that  any 
tiling  you  have  a  right  to,  I  have  a  right  to.  I  will  not  be  separated 
from  you.  I  will  not  be  taken  out  of  the  brotherhood  of  my  fellow- 
citizens.  I  am  just  like  you,  with  the  same  right  to  speak,  and  the 
same  right  to  exert  my  influence  that  you  have — no  more  and  no 
less.  And  those  that  protest  against  a  clergyman's  meddling  with 
public  afiairs  are  the  artificers  and  the  architects  of  a  hierarchy.  You 
take  just  that  course  that  will  shove  clergymen  together  in  a  body, 
and  make  them  feel  that  they  are  holy  men  ;  and  when  by  and  by 
they  begin  to  think  that  they  are  holy,  and  something  above  the 
average  of  men,  you  turn  round  and  curse  them  for  thinking  so  ! 
You  blame  them  for  being  what  you  have  made  them  to  be. 

A  clergyman  is  a  man ;  he  is  a  citizen  ;  he  is  a  teacher  of  moral 
things,  without  any  privilege  to  teach  more  than  any  body  else. 
Any  body  may  teach  that  can  and  wants  to.  And  if  he  tries  and 
succeeds,  that  is  call  enough.  That  is  the  best  evidence  that  he  is 
ordained  to  teach.  Four  hundred  thousand  angels  blowing  trumpets 
for  a  fool  would  not  give  him  a  right  to  preach ;  and  without  a 
trumpet,  without  a  call,  a  man  that  has  got  it  in  him,  and  loves 
men,  and  understands  what  is  for  their  welfare,  and  is  willing  to  tell 


308  SPHERE  OF  TEE  GEBISTIAN  MINISTER. 

them  of  it,  lias  a  right  to  preach.  The  whole  matter  is  as  simple  ;i3 
common  sense  itself. 

Therefore,  when  men  are  unwilling  that  clergymen  should  meddle 
with  public  or  i^rivate  affairs,  it  is  true  that  they  should  not,  if  by 
"  clergy"  you  mean  c/a5s-clergy.  It  is  not  true,  if  you  mean  ordinary 
moral  teachers.  They  arrogate  nothing  to  themselves,  and  are  not 
bound  to  go  in  a  class.  They  are  members  of  their  own  church. 
They  are  simply  elder  brothers  in  teaching.  They  are  in  the  com- 
munity just  what  eveiy  other  man  is.  There  is  no  reason  for  jeal- 
ousy in  regard  to  the  intrusion  of  such  men.  "Where  they  are  seek- 
ing to  apply  moral  truths  to  the  conduct  of  affairs,  to  the  character  of 
men,  to  the  processes  of  business,  to  the  flow  of  pleasure,  there  is  no 
reason  why  they  should  be  denied  the  privilege  or  refused  a  hearing. 

A  judgment  formed  by  a  clear  head  upon  any  course  from  high 
moral  grounds,  is  likely  to  be  sounder,  w'iscr,  and  more  cogent  than 
judgments  Avhich  are  formed  from  mere  practical  grounds.  There 
may  be,  there  often  is,  what  is  called  speculative  judgment,  theoreti- 
cal judgment.  Or,  as  it  is  sometimes  said,  men  may  be  doctrinaires. 
And  this  is  thrown  into  strong  antithesis  and  contrast  with  i^ractical 
wisdom. 

Now,  I  hold  that  moral  intuition  may  be,  and  often  is,  wiser  than 
practical  experience  itself  Nay,  the  reason  why  practical  experience 
is  continually  stumbling  and  falling  at  the  crisis  is,  that  it  lacks  the 
moral  element.  And  a  man  who  can  add  this  to  the  ordinary  wisdom  of 
common  men  is  just  the  man  who — in  addition  to  the  judgment  which 
men  form  by  familiarity  with  the  details  of  their  business — has  the 
moral  inspiration  which  shall  give  him  an  insight  into  the  relations  of 
men  in  society,  and  has  a  light  which  shall  make  him  wiser  than  he 
could  have  been  by  his  own  practical  experience  alone.  An  outsider 
is  very  useful  to  an  insider.  As  the  engineer  can  not  steer,  being  down 
below  among  the  machinery,  he  is  very  much  helped  by  a  man  that 
is  on  the  lookout ;  and  men  that  are  buried  in  the  hiill  of  their  affairs 
ought  to  be  thankful  if  there  is  any  body  on  deck  that  can  keep  a  look- 
out, and  tell  which  way  the  ship  is  going. 

All  kinds  of  business,  all  professions,  all  courses  in  social  life,  be- 
sides their  relationships  to  other  ends  and  instruments,  stand  in  a  yet 
higher  relation  to  moral  law,  which  is  the  highest  relation  of  all. 
They  stand  in  a  relation  to  the  moral  welfare  of  the  whole  community. 
And  we  have  a  right — I  have  a  right ;  you  have  a  right;  every  body 
has  a  right — with  or  without  ordination,  by  virtue  of  our  essential  man- 
hood, which  is  the  highest  ordination,  to  meddle  wdth  the  moral  re- 
lations of  every  course  and  calling.  There  is  nothing  in  society  so 
strong,  so  high,  or  set  apart  with  such  exclusiveness,  that  I  have  not 
a  right  to  put  my  probe  into  it,  and  search  it,  and  instruct  it.     And 


SPHERE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTER.  300 

if  it  does  not  need  instruction,  it  does  it  no  more  hurt  tlian  rain  does 
a  slate  roof — for  it  can  run  off.  If  it  does  need  it,  and  does  not  take  it, 
it  is  hurt  and  lost. 

Many  and  many  a  voyage  has  been  disastrous  because  when  a  Paul 
said,  "  Ye  will  come  to  harm,"  the  centurion  said,  "  We  have  the 
ship-master  and  the  owner,  and  we  will  listen  to  them  rather  than  to 
this  Paul.  What  does  he  know  about  it  ?  We  probably  know  more 
about  our  own  business  than  any  stranger  does."  In  many  and  many 
a  case  it  has  turned  out  tliat  the  stranger,  whose  advice  was  rejected 
with  scorn,  knew  more  than  the  ship-master,  the  owner,  and  all  on 
board  put  together. 

This  has  been  Christ's  quarrel  from  the  beginning.  As  it  was  said 
on  one  occasion,  so  it  is  said  now,  "  What  have  we  to  do  with  thee  ?" 
which  is  the  same  as  saying.  What  hast  thou  to  do  with  us  ? 
"Art  thou  come  to  torment  us  before  our  time?"  Whenever  the 
stimulating  power  of  divine  truth  has  begun  to  work  upon  men's  con- 
sciences, whenever  the  light  has  begun  to  shine  into  the  darkness,  the 
darkness  would  not  comprehend  it.  And  when  Christian  teachers 
begin  to  apply  the  larger  principles  of  criticism  to  the  evil  courses  of 
society,  which  almost  always  revolve  in  small  circles,  Math  limited 
sight  and  no  foresight,  men  say,  "  Ye  meddlers,  why  do  you  not  attend 
to  your  business,  and  let  us  attend  to  our  business  ?  Stay  thou  at 
home  and  preach  the  Gospel,  and  let  our  amusements  alone.  Stay 
thou  at  home  and  preach  Christ,  and  not  touch  grog-shops  and  liquor- 
sellers.  Stay  thou  at  home,  and  not  meddle  with  lotteries.  Espe- 
cially do  not  meddle  with  caucuses  and  fiscal  managements  and  ma- 
neuvers. What  hast  thou  to  do  with  Wall  street?  What  hast  thou 
to  do  along  the  wharves  and  piers?  What  hast  thou  to  do  with  ma- 
chinists ?  What  hast  thou  to  do  with  business  men  ?  Follow  the 
meek  and  lowly  Jesus."  I  do  follow  him — precisely  that ;  for  he  said, 
"I  came  not  to  send  peace,  but  a  sword."  "For  I  am  come  to  set  a 
man  at  variance  against  his  father,  and  the  daughter  against  her  mo- 
ther, and  the  daughter-in-law  against  her  mother-in-law.  And  a 
man's  foes  shall  be  they  of  his  own  household."  Those  that  follow 
Christ  do  not  go  about  whispering  to  men,  and  patting  them,  and 
making  soft  pillows  for  them  to  put  their  heads  on,  and  easy  cushions 
for  them  to  sit  down  on,  and  sweet  music  for  them  to  do  their  ini- 
quities in.  He  that  follows  Christ  is  not  one  of  these  smooth  speak- 
ers. Do  you  suppose  that  these  pulpit  birds  of  paradise  are  the  best 
fitted  to  save  their  fellow-men,  and  do  the  world  good  ?  Far  from 
it.  The  men  especially  who  follow  Christ  and  his  apostles,  are  the 
men  who  turn  the  world  upside  down. 

While,  then,  I  disavow  the  rights  of  the  clergy  as  a  body  organ- 
ized for  their  OAS^n  interest,  and  hold  them  to  be  a  dangerous  class, 


310  SPHERE  OF  THE  CHIilSTIAX  MINISTER. 

aud  the  most  dangerous  class  in  society,  because  they  are  the  most 
conscientious — for  when  a  man  has  his  face  set  toward  wickedness, 
there  is  nothing  like  conscience  to  ride  him  to  the  devil :  the  more 
conscientious  men  are,  the  more  deadly  are  they  in  their  persecutions, 
and  the  more  disastrous  is  their  influence  on  society — while  I  disavow 
clerical  classhood,  I  affirm  the  rights  of  individual  reason,  I  affirm  the 
rights  of  individual  conscience,  I  affirm  the  rights  of  the  moral  teacher, 
not  because  he  is  a  minister,  but  because  he  is  a  man.  He  has  a  right 
to  go  into  every  part  of  society.  He  has  a  right  to  give  advice.  He  has 
a  right  to  whisper,  if  whispering  is  the  proper  method.  He  has  a 
right  to  thunder,  if  thundering  is  the  pi'oper  method.  And  if  I  do 
these  things,  no  man  can  say,  "  It  is  none  of  your  business."  It  is  my 
business.  Every  thing  that  is  done  under  God's  sun  is  my  business. 
And  no  man  shall  say  to  me,  "  You  are  going  out  of  your  sphere." 
My  sjihere  is  as  broad  as  the  sunlight.  InTo  man  shall  say,  "  You  are 
intruding."  I  am  not  intruding.  AVhen  I  stand  and  look  upon  those 
things  which  are  of  common  interest  to  you  and  to  me,  and  say, 
"  Such  courses  and  such  a  career  jar  against  the  universal  fellowship, 
against  the  general  prosperity,  against  the  integrity  at  largo,"  it  is 
precisely  my  business. 

2.  There  is  a  popular  impression — and  it  seems  to  men  like  a 
philosophical  truism — that  every  man  xmderstands  his  own  business 
best;  that  he  need  not  be  meddled  Avith,  at  least  till  he  asks  advice; 
and  that  even  then  no  one  can  counsel  him  so  wisely  as  one  of  the 
same  craft.  Complaint  is  often  made  on  that  ground,  of  ministers, 
that  they  meddle  with  things  that  they  do  not  tmderslnnd.  I  think 
they  do,  too,  Avhen  they  preach  theology!  There  is  an  amazing  deal 
of  wisdom  that  will  be  called  rubbish  one  of  these  days!  But  wlien 
ministers  meddle  with  practical  life,  with  ethical  questions  and  rela- 
tions, they  are  meddling  with  just  what  they  do  understand,  or  ought 
to.  K  they  do  not  understand  these  things,  they  have  failed  to  pre- 
pare themselves  for  one  of  the  most  important  functions  to  which  they 
could  address  themselves  as  ministers. 

But  look  at  this  matter.  Is  it  true  that  a  man  generally  under- 
stands his  own  business  best?  Is  it  true  that,  if  he  needs  counsel,  he 
had  better  take  it  from  some  one  who  is  in  the  same  business  that  he 
is?  I  admit  that  there  is  a  truth  in  this  matter.  Familiarity  with 
details,  which  goes  so  largely  to  constitute  success  in  any  secular 
calling,  may  be  supposed  to  be  chiefly  confined  to  those  who  are  en- 
gaged in  that  calling.  The  printer  knows  more  about  the  details  of 
printing  than  I  do.  The  lawyer  knows  more  than  I  do  about  the 
thousand  and  one  details  of  practice  in  our  courts;  of  methods  of 
procedure;  of  rules  that  have  been  formed;  of  precedents  that  have 
been  established.     The  machinist  understands  the  fashion  of  the  ma- 


SPHERE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTER.  311 

chine — the  principle  and  working  of  it,  at  any  rate — ^better  than  I  do. 
And  in  manufacturing  interests,  men  understand  the  interior  of  their 
business  better  than  I  do — unless  I  have  made  it  a  matter  of  special 
study.  So  of  political  economy.  So  of  ten  thousand  interests  iu 
society. 

But  does  it  follow  that  a  man  understands  the  general  relations  of 
his  business  to  other  businesses  ?  Yet  that  is  very  important.  Does 
it  follow  that  a  man  understands  the  moral  relations  of  his  business 
better  than  an  outsider?  Does  it  follow  that  a  man  understands  the 
relations  of  his  business  to  political  economy  better  than  an  outsider 
does  ?  So  far  from  that,  experience  shows  that  no  man  is  so  blind  as 
a  man  that  is  immersed  in  his  own  business.  It  is  not  often  the  case 
tliat  any  department  of  life  is  reformed  of  its  own  accord.  Medicine 
does  not  reform  itself  The  reformation  is  thrown  upon  it  from  with- 
out. Law  does  not  reform  itself  It  is  the  community  that  compels 
law  to  reform.  Governments  do  not  reform  themselves.  De  Tocque- 
ville  said — and  it  was  true  then,  it  is  true  now,  and  it  always  will  be 
true — "  Governments  will  be  as  rascally  as  the  people  will  let  them 
be."  It  is  the  light  that  is  brought  in  from  the  outside  that  reforms 
governments.  In  some  way  the  general  interest  of  the  whole  commu- 
nity is  concentrated  upon  some  disturbing  career,  or  business,  until 
the  men  who  are  engaged  therein  yield  to  reformation.  The  reforma- 
tion of  any  calling  is  seldom  developed  in  the  calling  itself  It  always 
is  forced  uj)on  it  ah  extra. 

There  is  nothing,  therefore,  that  is  more  untrue,  than  that  a  man 
understands  his  own  business  best,  if  by  that  you  mean  that  he  under- 
stands it  in  its  largest  relations — in  its  general  results  to  the  welfare 
of  society;  and  more  particularly  if  you  mean  that  he  understands  his 
own  business  best  in  its  moral  influence  upon  himself,  upon  his  fellows, 
and  upon  society.  Usually,  none  understand  the  moral  bearing  of  a 
business  so  little  as  the  men  who  are  embarked  in  it.  The  broker  does 
not  understand  the  moral  relations  of  brokerage  so  well  as  I  do,  though 
he  understands  the  details  of  that  business  far  better  than  I  do.  The 
lawyer  does  not  understand  all  the  workings  of  the  law  as  well  as  I  do. 
It  is  not  the  machinery,  but  what  it  can  do,  what  it  works  out,  that  I 
understand.  It  does  not  follow  that  the  miller  understands  bread 
better  than  I  do.  I  know  what  good  bread  is  as  well  as  he  does.  He 
knows  more  about  the  process  of  making  flour  than  I  do.  The  baker 
knows  more  about  kneading  dough,  about  the  time  that  it  should  re- 
quire to  rise,  and  about  how  long  it  should  be  in  baking  ;  but  when  it 
is  done,  and  I  take  the  loaf,  and  eat  it,  then  I  am  as  goo^  a  judge  of 
bread  as  he  is. 

And  so  it  is  with  the  various  kinds  of  business.  Thef  brin-^  r>ut 
results  here  and  there,  and  the  community  is  made  to  take  the  ben  fit 


812  SPEEBE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  MimSTER. 

or  damnge,  as  the  case  mayLe.  And  men  who  stand  and  look  on — 
men  who  have  discrimination,  large  reflection,  clear  intuition,  and  who, 
above  all,  judge  from  a  moral  stand-point — such  men  are  competent  to 
be  critics  of  every  thing  that  there  is  in  human  society.  But  when,  as 
preachers  or  teachers,  they  say,  "  You  had  better  not  loose  from  Crete," 
men  turn  to  the  captain,  or  the  owner,  as  if  he  knew  more  than  they. 
Let  them  take  their  storms.  The  time  will  come  when  you  can  say 
to  them,  "  I  told  you  so.  You  ought  not  to  have  loosed,  and  to  have 
come  to  all  this  harm  and  damage.  " 

Not  alone  to  dwell  in  generalities,  these  remarks  are  abundantly 
true  and  abundantly  verified  in  the  matter  of  law  and  its  general  pro- 
cedure. It  is  not  for  me,  perhaps,  to  say  how  a  judge  shall  discharge 
his  function ;  but  it  is  for  me  to  say  M^hen  he  discharges  his  function 
wrongly.  It  is  not  for  me  to  say  what  is  the  special  province  of  an  ad- 
vocate ;  but  it  is  for  me,  when  I  see  that  a  lawyer  is  violating  the 
fundamental  laws  of  morality,  to  be  his  critic^  The  moment  he  so 
conducts  his  profession  that  it  touches  the  question  of  right  and 
wrong,  he  comes  into  my  sphere.  There  I  stand ;  and  I  put  God's 
measure,  the  golden  reed  of  the  sanctuary,  on  him  and  his  course ; 
and  I  am  his  master,  if  I  be  a  ti'ue  seer,  and  a  true  moral  teacher ; 
and  I  am  not  meddling.  He  has  brought  his  business  up  to  me  the 
moment  it  comes  into  the  sphere  of  right  or  wrong.  He  has  brought 
it  to  my  court,  to  my  tribunal.  For  the  truth  stands  back  of  all 
other  courts,  and  has,  in  the  last  estate,  to  try  every  course  and 
every  procedure.  Nothing  is  good  for  any  individual  in  society  that 
is  not  right.  In  the  long  run,  righteousness  is  policy.  Therefore, 
although  it  is  not  for  me  to  meddle  with  the  oi'dinary  processes 
of  courts,  or  of  the  profession  of  the  law,  where  certain  courses  and. 
certain  practices  become  damaging  to  the  young,  damaging  to  men 
at  large,  damaging  by  example,  and  damaging  by  corruption,  it  is  for 
me  to  lay  the  law  of  God  on  them. 

There  is  a  Judge  that  is  higher  than  judges,  whose  servant  I  am; 
there  is  a  law  that  is  higher  than  laws  ;  there  is  a  court,  thank  God, 
a  Sii2:>erior  court,  a  Supreme  court,  in  which  all  inferior  courts  shall 
yet  come  to  arbitrament,  and  many  of  them  to  damage.  And  I  am 
not  going  out  of  my  profession,  I  am  not  going  one  step  beyond  it,  in 
meddling  with  these  things.  When  they  stink,  and  the  stench  comes 
up  into  my  nostrils,  then  it  becomes  my  business  to  deal  with  them. 
Why  ?  Because  I  am  citizen.  Why  ?  Because  I  am  a  man.  Why  ? 
Because  I  undertake  to  judge  by  the  law  of  God  ;  by  the  law  of  con- 
science ;  by  the  law  of  everlasting  rectitude.  That  gives  me  my  right. 
It  is  not  because  I  am  a  minister — certainly  not  because  I  am  a  priest ; 
for  I  am  not  a  priest,  and  do  not  believe  in  priests.  It  is  not  because 
[  am  specially  ordained.    My  mother  ordained  me.    God  sent  her  to  be 


SPUERE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTER.-  013 

my  ordaining  power.  I  do  not  assume  any  authority  except  that  which 
is  in  reason.  I  do  not  arrogate  any  authority  except  that  which  lies  in 
moral  appeal.  But  I  do  affirm  my  right  to  speak,  and  to  speak  boldly, 
and  to  say  to  every  crooked  judge,  "  Woe  be  upon  thine  head  !"  and 
to  every  trafficking  lawyer,  "  Woe  be  unto  thee  !"  I  do  not  say  that  I 
am  sent  of  God  to  do  it  more  than  any  other  honest  man  ;  but  I  say 
that  every  honest  man  is  sent  to  do  it.  And  woe  be  to  those  men  who, 
knowing  what  is  taking  place  around  them,  refuse  to  join  me  in  de- 
nouncing those  that  are  the  corrupters  of  the  community  in  the  highest 
places  of  it ! 

I  xnill  not  let  it  rest.  I  will  go  back  to  this  subject  again  and  again. 
I  will  see  it  through.  I  have  lived  to  see  the  victory  of  many  a  strug- 
gling cause  whose  advocates  were  in  the  minority ;  and  I  shall  live  to 
see  the  cleansing  of  our  courts,  and  to  see  the  hideous  names  of  many 
of  our  judges  enshrined  as  are  the  names  of  corrupt  judges  of  other 
nations  and  other  times  ;  and  they  will  be  used  as  new-invented  terms 
of  infamy ! 

The  same  is  true  of  political  economy  ;  of  the  industries  ;  in  other 
Avords,  of  society ;  of  the  means  and  sources  and  method  of  its  wealth. 
A  moral  teacher,  it  may  be  supposed,  has  little  in  common  with  these 
things.  It  is  supposed  that  a  moral  teacher  is  a  poor,  dapper,  nice 
little  man,  shut  up  to  a  kind  of  musical  service  of  the  sanctuary,  where 
he  has  to  stand  like  a  feeble  taper  in  a  golden  candlestick,  or  pipe 
out  his  little  homily.  There  may  be  such  men  ;  but  I  am  not  one  of 
them !  I  would  not  waste  my  life  in  any  such  petty  business  as  that. 
I  hold  that  a  minister  has  the  noblest  sphere  which  is  open  to  any 
man.  He  is  a  clear  thinker,  a  large-hearted  man,  loving  his  fellow- 
men,  patriotic  to  the  heart's  core,  concerned  with  every  thing  that 
concerns  men  and  human  society,  and  interested  in  whatever  properly 
interests  any  body  else,  studying  them  as  far  forth  as  he  has  an  oppor- 
tunity to  study  them,  exercising  his  plenary  right  of  manhood,  and 
speaking  plainly  wdiat  he  feels  deeply.  And  I  look  into  political 
economy — that  is  to  say,  the  courses  which  industry  pursues — not 
simply  in  their  relations  to  the  public  wealth,  but  also  in  their  relations 
to  that  higher  and  deeper  wealth,  namely,  the  conscience — the  incor. 
nipt  condition  of  the  community.  If  I  were  to  preach  on  tarifts,  if  I 
were  to  preach  on  banks  and  banking,  and  on  the  various  kindred 
subjects,  men  w^ould  say,  "  What  does  he  know  about  these  things?" 
If,  after  they  had  heard  me,  it  was  evident  that  I  did  not  know  any 
thing  about  them,  it  would  be  pertinent ;  but  if  they  hear  rae,  and  find 
that  I  do  know  as  much  as  they  do  about  such  matters,  it  is  imper- 
tinent. If  I  am  a  minister,  and  I  am  rightly  informed  on  these  sub- 
jects, why  sliould  I  not  preach  about  them?  Have  you  the  preroga- 
tive to  be  selfish  ?  and  have  not  I  the  prerogative  to  find  you  out  ? 


314  SPHERE  OF  TEE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTER. 

Have  you  a  right  to  be  partial  ?  and  liave  I  not  a  right  to  point  out 
your  partiality  ?  Have  you  a  right  to  conduct  the  courses  of  society 
in  such  a  way  that  they  wear  out  the  road  on  which  millions  must 
walk  ?  and  have  I  no  right  in  humanity  to  stand  and  plead  for  the 
necessity  that  the  way  of  the  Lord  should  be  cast  up,  and  not  the  way 
of  Mammon  ?  And  do  you  say  that  the  presumption  is  that  you  know 
your  own  business,  and  I  do  not  know  any  thing  about  it  ?  If  I  know 
my  own  business — and  the  presumption  is  that  I  do — it  is  to  hunt 
men,  and  study  them  ! 

Do  you  suppose  that,  because  a  man  is  an  apothecary,  he  does  not 
know  how  to  catch  trout  ?  He  has  studied  the  nature  of  trout  on 
purpose  to  amuse  himself  Does  it  follow  that,  because  a  man  is  an 
able  lawyer,  he  can  not  go  to  the  Adirondacks  and  be  a  skillful  hunter? 
Experience  shows  that  he  can,  though  he  may  not  have  made  it  the 
sole  business  of  his  life  to  hunt  along  the  brooks  or  streams,  or  in  the 
deep  sea.  Shall  any  body  say  that,  not  having  devoted  himself  to  these 
things,  the  probability  is  that  he  does  not  understand  them  ?  Do  you 
suppose  that  I  study  old  musty  books  when  I  want  to  preach  ?  I 
study  you!  When  I  want  to  deliver  a  discourse  on  theology,  I  study 
yoy  !  When  I  want  to  know  more  about  the  doctrine  of  depravity,  I 
study  you!  When  I  want  to  know  what  is  right  and  what  is  wrong, 
I  see  how  you  do  ;  and  I  have  abundant  illustrations  on  every  side  ! 

A  ti'ue  minister  is  a  man  among  men.  A  true  minister  is  a  man 
that  concerns  himself  in  respect  to  all  the  courses  of  human  life,  be- 
cause he  is  to  shed  light  upon  them  ;  because  he  is  to  apply  the  divine 
rule  to  human  conduct. 

If,  therefore,  any  man  standing  inside  of  his  business,  says  "  What 
do  you  know  about  it?"  and  turns  to  the  ship-master  and  the  owner, 
I  shall  say  to  him  ere  long,  "  I  told  you  that  you  ought  not  to  have 
loosed  from  Crete,  and  to  have  come  to  this  loss  and  damage." 

The  same  is  true  of  the  career  of  commerce,  and  all  the  instruments 
of  commerce — of  banking;  of  brokerage;  of  speculation ;  of  railway 
management.  There  are  a  thousand  things  in  these  that  a  man  can 
not  well  and  perfectly  understand  who  does  not  devote  himself  to 
them.  There  are  a  thousand  points  that  I  do  not  meddle  with.  There 
are  a  thousand  questions  that  no  man  would  meddle  with  who  was 
not  inside  of  these  things.  These  questions  themselves  are  but  so  many 
types  in  a  sentence.  Society  is  a  great  fact ;  and  society  is  made  up 
of  these  ten  thousand  separate  letters,  as  it  Avere,  or  sentences,  or 
words.  And  while  I  may  not  be  able  to  go  into  an  analytic  de- 
scription of  each  individual  department,  I  stand  and  look  at  the  way 
in  which  they  affect  society,  and  have  a  word  to  say  as  to  how  they 
shall  steer. 

Paul  did  not  say  to  this  man,  "  You  ought  to  hoist  this  sail,  or 


SPHERE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTER.  8  I .") 

that  sail."  That  was  not  his  business.  He  did  not  say,  "  Your 
stevedore  has  not  laden  you  right."  He  left  that  to  the  stevedore's 
superior  knowledge.  But  he  did  say  to  them,  "  You  must  not  make 
this  voyage."  He  knew  that  the  season  was  unfiivorable ;  he  knew 
that  it  was  about  the  time  when  the  equinoctial  storms  would  prevail. 
He  had  some  knowledge  of  the  great  courses  of  nature  as  well  as 
other  men.  And  the  fact  that  he  was  an  apostle  did  not  take  away 
his  power  of  judging  of  these  things. 

So  I  stand  and  say,  "  There  are  certain  courses  in  the  great  com- 
mercial world  that  are  sure  to  bring  damage  to  those  that  pursue 
them."  And  you  shall  not  revile  me,  saying,  "  You  are  nothing  but 
a  minister.  You  are  a  landsman.  You  know  nothing  about  sailing." 
There  are  certain  courses  in  banking  that  I  know  to  be  atrocious. 
I  know  that  there  are  operations  in  railway  management  that  outrage 
every  law  of  prudence.  I  know  that  where  mighty  capital  is  com- 
bined, and  capitalists  are  joined  together,  a  fraternity  of  villains,  they 
shall  be  able  to  swamp  legislatures,  and  sweep  whole  communities  to 
destruction.  And  when  this  accumulation  of  peril  begins  to  globe  up 
and  fill  the  very  horizon,  I  know  it  is  my  business  to  sound  the  alarm, 
and  to  say  to  men,  "  There  is  no  prosj^erity  to  society  so  long  as  such 
gigantic  swindles  and  frauds  as  these  are  going  on."  And  when  I  do 
say  it,  they  say  to  me,  "  Are  you  a  railroad  man  ?"  No,  but  I  am 
after  railroad  men.  "  Do  you  understand  this  business  ?"  ISTo,  but 
I  understand  tlie  men  who  are  in  this  business.  "  Is  it  a  part  of  your 
parochial  affairs  to  meddle  with  such  matters  ?"  Yes  ;  it  zs  a  part 
of  my  jDai'ochial  affairs.  I  am  a  citizen  of  the  United  States ;  and 
my  parish  is  the  United  States ;  and  you  are  my  parishioners ; 
and  I  see  that  you  are  .criminals,  pursuing  culpable  courses 
which  violate  honesty,  and  purity,  and  conscience,  and  that  you 
are  not  honorable  men,  and  do  not  pass  for  such  before  God, 
though  you  may  before  men ;  and  it  is  just  my  business  to  tell 
you  these  things.  And  when  it  is  said,  "  Nobody  can  give  advice 
in  regard  to  the  affairs  of  any  given  department  unless  he  belongs  to 
those  affairs,"  I  say  that  a  cock  does  not  need  to  be  in  bed  with  you 
to  know  that  the  morning  has  come,  and  crow!  It  is  because  he  is 
out  of  doors,  and  sits  aloft,  and  sees  where  the  sun  is  coming  up,  that 
he  becomes  the  clarion  of  the  morning,  and  gives  you  the  signal  for 
waking  up. 

That  which  is  true  of  these  departments  is  just  as  true  of  political 
affairs.  And  now  we  come  to  a  more  familiar  theme — to  the  old, 
old  theme,  which  for  twenty  years  I  have' been  battling  here,  and 
which  I  think  is  at  last  given  over.  It  is  thought  that  ministers  are 
incurable,  and  that  they  will  meddle  in  public  affairs ;  and  men  have 
almost  agreed  to  let  them — fortunately  for  them !   For  the  process  of 


816  SPHERE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTER. 

public  administration   comes  even  nearer  to  us  than  either  of  the 
other  elements  that  I  have  mentioned. 

It  is  an  evil  day  when  patriotism  is  considered  to  be  too  foul  for 
a  minister.  It  is  an  evil  day  when  the  formation  of  the  laws  is  con- 
sidered to  be  a  business  in  which  righteous  men  should  not  dabble. 
It  is  an  evil  day  when  the  appointment  of  magistrates  and  of  the 
■shief  officers  of  the  commonwealth  is  considered  to  be  so  discreditable 
that  an  honorable  and  pure-minded  religious  man  shoiild  not  have 
much  to  do  with  it.  It  is  an  evil  day  when  the  jjolicy  of  the  state, 
which  carries  with  it  the  welfare  of  the  whole  mass  of  men — their  joy 
or  their  sorrow,  their  weal  or  their  woe — is  such  that  a  man  of  a  pure 
lieart  can  not  touch  it.  And  I  say  that,  as  long  as  I  love  my  country,  as 
long  as  I  love  the  old  commonwealth,  as  long  as  I  am  joined  in  equal 
fellowship  to  every  man  whose  heart  beats  for  pleasure  or  for  suffi?ring 
■ — so  long  I  am  concerned  in  all  these  things,  and  so  long  I  will  be 
concerned  in  them,  and  so  long  I  will  speak,  in  and  out  of  prison,  in 
and  out  of  the  pulpit,  and  in  and  out  of  papers ;  rising  up  or  sitting 
down,  going  out  or  coming  in.  And  I  will  speak,  not  witli  the 
liberty  of  a  minister,  but  with  a  higher  liberty  than  tliat — with  the 
liberty  of  a  man  and  a  citizen.  I  take  on  nothing  as  a  minister.  I  am 
not  a  minister  ;  I  am  not  a  priest ;  I  am  simply  an  honest  man,  speak- 
ing to  honest  men.  And  I  speak  of  things  which  concern  the  state 
and  the  country,  not  because  you  voted  me  the  right  to  do  it,  not 
because  the  Synod  or  any  other  conclave  gave  me  the  right;  but 
because  it  is  a  right  which  inheres  in  my  very  being.  When  God 
Baid,  "Let  that  man  be  born,"  he  gave  me  the  right.  And  I  accept 
it.  And  I  accord  it  to  you,  and  to  every  living  man  who  has  a  head 
and  heart,  and  the  feeling  and  the  courage  to  use  it  with  boldness  in 
the  service  of  the  country. 

Therefore,  if  men  say,  "  What  do  you  understand  of  the  mechan- 
ism of  politics  ?"  I  say,  "  I  am  not  an  engineer.  The  machinery 
of  politics  I  know  very  little  about ;  but  I  know  what  courses  tend 
toward  everlasting  rectitude.  I  know  what  courses  tend  toward  in- 
telligence. I  know  what  courses  tend  toward  liberty.  I  know  what 
courses  make  men  out  of  men,  and  what  courses  make  slaves  out  of 
men."  And  I  know  these  things  better  than  men  do  who  dabble  in 
politics.  For,  when  a  man  nuzzles  in  the  mud,  when  a  man  forgets 
God,  and  forgets  country,  and  forgets  manhood,  that  he  may  go  down 
and  mould  in  the  lower  parts  of  the  earth  his  neforious  plans,  I  know 
more  than  he  does,  because  I  stand  out  in  the  upper  light.  And  if  he 
says,  "  You  do  not  know  what  I  know,"  that  is  the  reason  I  know 
more  than  he  does,  and  am  better  qualified  to  be  a  teacher  of  rectitude 
in  public  afi'airs  than  if  I  had  stultified  my  moral  sense,  and  blinded 
myself  to  the  interior  elements  of  public  political  life. 


SPHERE  OF  THE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTER.  3 1  7 

All !  it  is  possible  for  a  man  to  go  through  the  furnace  that  Sliad- 
rach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego  went  through  ;  but  woe  to  the  man  who 
goes  into  the  furnace  if  he  has  not  the  faith  of  Shadrach,  Meshach, 
and  Abednego !  Woe  be  to  the  man  that  goes  iuto  the  fire  until 
"  the  form  of  the  fourth  "  is  seen  walking  with  him  !  Woe  be  to  the 
man  that  goes  to  Albany  or  Washington  unless  the  Lord  goes  with 
him  ! 

Do  you  say,  "Is  not  this  strange  to  be  talking  on  Sunday  night 
and  in  a  church  about  these  things  ?"  What  then  !  do  you  not 
believe  that  men  are  corrupt?  Do  not  you  believe  that  the  young 
men  are  perverted  in  their  ambition  ?  Do  not  you  believe  that  the 
bottom  is  foiling  out  of  honesty?  Do  not  you  believe  that  men  are 
falling  as  fir  from  patriotism,  as  he  fell  from  virtue,  who, 

"  Nine  times  tlie  space  that  measures  day  and  night 
To  mortal  men," 


was  hurled, 


'  Witli  hideous  ruin  and  combustion,  down 
To  bottomless  perdition  "  ? 


And  is  there  to  be  nobody  to  say  any  thing  about  these  thi^ngs  ?  Have 
you  a  church  that  is  like  a  boy's  toy  ?  and  am  I  to  stand  and  play 
on  my  trumpet  for  the  amusement  of  the  nursery?  Am  I  to  see  hu- 
manity damaged  to  its  very  core ;  am  I  to  see  the  nation  shaken  to 
its  deepest  foundations ;  am  I  to  see  God's  cause  in  imminent  peril, 
and  must  I  rememher  that  I  am  a  minister^  and  not  talk  about  these 
things  ?  Is  that  your  idea  of  a  minister's  business  ?.  Is  that  your  idea 
of  fidelity  on  the  part  of  a  minister  ?  Was  that  the  course  that  made 
Isaiah  and  Jeremiah  what  they  were  ?  Was  that  the  course  that 
made  Paul  what  he  was?  Was  that  the  coui-se  that  made  martyrs 
and  confessors  ?  Was  that  the  course  that  made  every  reformer  who 
was  hated  in  his  own  age  and  worshiped  in  the  ages  that  followed  ? 

Do  you  say  that  it  is  not  my  business  to  regulate  public  affaii's  ? 
I  tell  you,  it  is  the  business  of  every  man  to  whom  God  gives  the 
opportunity,  the  understanding,  the  courage,  and  the  impulse  ;  and  it 
is  my  business.  And  if  the  centurion  says,  "  I  would  rather  believe 
the  ship-master  and  the  owner,"  and  he  goes  out,  and  will  not  take 
my  advice,  it  will  not  be  long  before  I  shall  have  the  chance  to  say 
to  him  after  the  desolating  storm,  "  You  ought  to  have  heard  my 
words." 

There  is  a  remarkable  illustration  of  this  whole  matter  carried 
through  and  enacted  in  the  matter  of  slavery.  For  years  and  years 
God's  teachers  in  the  North  declared  what  was  the  terrific  effect  of 
slavery  upon  political  economy,  and  people  would  not  believe  it. 
They  declared  what  was  the  effect  of  slavery  upon  the  public  pros- 
perity, and  men  would  not  believe  it.     They  declared  what  was  the 


318  SPHERE  OF  THE  CHBISTIAN  IIINISTER. 

effect  of  slavery  upon  j^ersonal  morals  and  manhood  in  the  South, 
and  men  would  not  believe  a  word  about  it.  They  declared  what 
the  effect  of  slavery  must  be  upon  the  master  and  the  slave  ;  and  men 
■would  say  to  them,  "  You  live  at  the  North,  and  do  not  understand 
this  matter.  Why  do  not  you  go  South  and  find  out  the  facts  in  the 
case  ?"  We  said,  "  We  know  the  tendency  of  slavery,  and  we  know 
the  tendency  of  liberty.  We  know  that  in  a  condition  of  slavery  a 
man  is  ignorant  and  degraded,  and  that  he  can  not  be  any  thing  else. 
We  know,  on  the  other  hand,  that  there  is  nothing  like  the  prosperity 
which  sjDrings  from  liberty."  And  this  battle  went  on :  we  saying 
that  slavery  was  violating  every  law  of  society,  and  every  element  of 
God's  moral  truth ;  and  they  declaring,  "  Your  testimony  is  not 
worthy  to  be  taken.  You  ai'e  not  acquainted  with  our  affairs.  You 
do  not  understand  the  working  of  slavery  as  well  as  you  would  if 
you  Avere  in  the  midst  of  it." 

Now  the  great  drama  is  played  oi;t  to  the  fifth  act ;  and  who  was 
riorht  ?  Who  was  wronsr  ?  Did  we  not  have  in  the  war  overwhelm- 
ing  evidence  of  the  evil  effects  of  slavery  upon  a  community?  When 
the  pressure  came,  how  the  South,  with  its  institution  of  slavery,  was 
smashed  like  an  efifS-shell !  And  the  North  with  her  free  labor,  and 
the  training  which  free  labor  gives,  went  into  the  struggle,  and  came 
out  stronger  in  every  bone,  and  muscle,  and  nerve  than  when  she 
Avent  in.  And  we  are  better  able  to-day  to  go  into  such  a  conflict 
than  we  were  at  the  beginning  to  go  into  that  one.  And  how  has 
the  South  come  out?  Lying  along  the  ground,  panting,  poor,  im- 
poverished, utterly  wretched  and  ruined  !  Are  these  the  influences  of 
slavery  upon  political  economy  ?  And  yet  men  would  not  believe 
that  slavery  did  not  make  communities  rich.  It  was  sucking  out 
the  blood  of  the  people ;  and  the  war  has  proved  it.  Men  said, 
"  Slavery  does  not  injure  the  master;"  but  did  it  not  turn  the  hearts 
of  fifteen  States  full  of  men  away  from  as  good  a  government  as  ever 
kindly  permitted  them  to  ride  it  ?  Did  it  not  breed  treason — and 
the  ti-eason  of  savagery  ?  And  in  the  process  of  the  war  did  it  not 
prove  that  what  we  call  honor  was  scarce,  and  that  what  we  call 
barbarity  was  rife  and  diffused  far  and  near  ? 

I  hold  that  it  is  not  possible  to  bring  up  a  generation  of  men 
familiar  with  slavery,  and  accessory  to  it,  and  have  them  honest  and 
honorable  and  incorrupt.  I  appeal  to  facts,  and  put  it  to  you,  if  in 
the  end  slavery  did  not  prove  itself  utterly  weak,  and  if  the  communi- 
ties where  it  existed  were  not  crushed  to  atoms  when  the  stress  of 
war  was  brought  to  bear  upon  them. 

But  more  thah  any  thing  else,  it  was  said  that  we  did  not  under- 
stand the  nature  of  the  slave.  It  was  declared  that  he  loved  his 
master  so  that  he  would  not  take  his  liberty :   and  then,  in  the  very 


SPHERE  OF  THE  CnRISTIAN  MINISTER.  319 

next  l)i'eath,  it  was  said  that,  if  he  were  given  his  liberty,  he  would  turn 
round  and  kill  his  masters,  and  wallow  in  their  blood.  What  are  the 
facts  ?  Although  during  the  Avar  there  were  districts  where  there  were 
a  thousand  black  men  to  one  white  man,  they  patiently  staid  at  home, 
Avithout  lifting  a  finger  of  violence,  and  attended  the  crops,  and  cared 
for  the  fiimily,  and  performed  every  duty  of  their  station,  when  they 
knew  they  had  the  power  in  their  own  hands ;  and  yet,  when  the 
joyful  proclamation  of  liberty  came,  with  the  power  to  enforce  it,  in 
a  moment  was  there  found  one  single  man  who  disdained  the  boon  ? 
Was  there  found,  from  the  old,  praying,  white-headed  patriarch  to  the 
new-born  child,  one  that  did  not  leap  for  liberty  ?  Yet,  they  said 
they  understood  their  slaves  better  than  Ave  did.  We  told  them  that 
emancipation  would  be  ennobling  to  the  slave.  They  said  it  Avould 
leave  them  worse  than  it  found  them.  And  who  were  right,  they 
that  lived  among  them,  or  Ave  that-stood  at  a  distance  from  them  and 
judged  them  by  the  average  of  human  nature,  and  the  general  prin- 
ciples of  God's  moi-al  government  ? 

it  Avas  said,  "  If  you  free  the  blacks,  they  will  be  so  lazy  that  you 
can  not  do  any  thing  with  them.  They  Avill  need  somebody  to  take 
care  of  them."  But  it  is  the  confession  of  all  men  that,  in  all  those 
regions  where  there  is  distress  in  the  South,  the  most  prosperous  class- 
are  the  blacks.  In  the  malarial  portions  of  the  South,  the  blacks  are 
tlie  most  jirosperous  class.  It  Avas  the  testimony  of  Dr.  Sears  that,  in 
the  administration  of  the  Peabody  Trust  Fund,  the  most  of  it  Avas 
used  for  the  establishment  of  Normal  schools  for  the  whites  in  the 
various  States  of  the  South,  because  it  Avas  felt  that  the  most  destitute 
and  ignorant  class  must  he  taken  care  of  first!  And  it  is  true  in  many 
parts  of  the  South. 

Besides,  everywhere  there  is  an  appetite  for  knoAvledge  in  these 
men  that  people  said  were  brute  beasts.  And  there  is  a  natural  ten- 
denc}^  now  to  industry,  just  as  fast  and  as  far  as  they  see  that  it  is 
safe  for  them  to  amass  property  for  themselves.  And  they  are  al- 
moners of  bounty  to  the  whites  in  not  a  fcAV  cases.  Thousands  of 
masters  and  mistresses  are  to-day  the  pensioners  of  their  old  slaves, 
who  keep  them  from  starvation.  And  AAdio  knew  the  nature  of  these 
people  best,  those  that  Avere  inside  of  the  sphere  of  slaveiy  and  came 
in  contact  with  it,  or  those  that  were  outside  of  its  influence,  and 
judged  of  it  by  general  moral  principles? 

It  Avas  declared  that  they  Avere  a  cowardly  set ;  and  when  it  Avas 
proposed  to  make  soldiers  of  them,  it  Avas  pronounced  to  be  in  vain 
to  attempt  it.  But  when  soldiers  xoere  made  of  them,  and  in  the 
battle-charge  those  men  ran  away  from  them  Avho  had  despised  them 
before,  I  think  they  occupied  their  time  in  repenting  of  that  here- 
sy, and  admitting  that  there   might  be  some   courage  in  a  "nig- 


320  SPHERE  OF  TEE  CHRISTIAN  MINISTER. 

ger,"  after  all !  For  there  is  nothing  for  conviction  like  a  thrust  of  the 
bayonet  in  a  man,  as  he  runs  from  the  charge  of  an  army  of  negroes. 
It  lets  out  prejudice,  and  lets  in  the  light !  They  are  hrave  men,  and 
they  make  noble  soldiers,  in  every  i-espect  equal  to  white  soldiers. 
They  are  different  in  some  respects  from  other  races ;  but  the  French 
soldiers  differ  from  the  English  ;  and  the  Yankee  soldiei'S  differ  from 
either.  At  any  rate,  the  black  man  makes  in  his  way  a  good  soldier. 
Who  would  believe  that  ten  years  ago,  that  eight  years  ago,  I,  on 
general  moral  grounds,  was  ridiculed  for  forming  judgments  that  did 
not  belong  to  my  sphere,  and  because  I  expressed  my  opinion  adverse- 
ly to  slavery  ?  Men  said,  "  You  had  better  go  down  South  and  see 
for  yourself  what  the  condition  of  the  slaves  and  their  masters  is. 
You  Avill  understand  the  subject,  in  the  nature  of  things,  better  than 
you  can  while  you  are  so  far  removed  from  there."  And  yet,  the 
judgment  of  men  of  the  North,  on^every  point,  in  regard  to  the  negro 
race,  formed  on  the  theory  of  political  economy,  on  the  Icnowledge  of 
human  nature,  and  on  general  moral  principles,  has  proved  to  be  more 
accurate,  all  the  way  through,  than  the  judgments  of  the  men  that 
lived  among  them. 

I  think  this  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  cases  that  ever  came 
into  the  world,  to  show  that  not  they  that  are  in  business  or  in  any 
department  of  it,  are  the  best  judges  of  it,  so  flxr  as  it  has  relations  to 
collateral  interests  and  general  questions  of  morality. 

And  this  leads  me,  finally,  to  say  that,  judged  by  this  case  of  the 
apostle,  judged  by  the  whole  career  of  the  apostle,  and  judged  by 
these  reasonings,  there  is  no  calling  on  earth  that  is  so  man^'-sided — 
no  calling,  let  me  say,  that  is  so  full  of  all  natural  life,  so  full  of  vital- 
ity, as  the  calling  of  the  true  minister  of  Christ.  You  take  away 
from  him,  perhaps,  the  tiara,  and  robe,  and  mystic  ordinances ;  you 
take  away  from  him  his  proud  pretensions ;  you  take  away  from  him 
that  unconscious  arrogance  by  which  he  puts  himself  higher  than 
other  men,  and  claims  to  be  the  lord  of  God's  husbandry ;  and  you 
reduce  him  to  the  mere  level  of  a  brother,  so  that  he  has  nothing  in 
the  world  but  just  the  forces  which  he  brings  into  a  sanctified  use, 
and  he  is  what  he  is  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  his  influence  is  simply 
that  which  belongs  to  his  character.  It  seems  as  though  you  had 
degraded  him ;  but  yoii  have  not.  A  man's  influence  and  a  man's 
power  do  not  depend  on  the  clothes  he  wears.  It  does  not  depend 
upon  what  position  he  occupies.  It  does  not  depend  upon  any  thing 
of  that  sort.  Put  a  man  into  a  golden  house,  and  set  him  to  Avriting 
philosophical  treatises,  and  if  he  has  not  the  head  for  it,  he  fails.  In 
the  estimation  of  men  he  is  ranked  downward ;  and  none  of  his  ex- 
terior circumstances  can  keep  him  up. 

Go  into  that  little  closet-room,  not  as  large  as  this  platform,  in  which 


SPHERE    OF  THE    CHRISTIAN  MINISTER.  321 

Jonathan  Edwards  wrote  liis  Treatise  on  the  Will,  in  a  cane- bottom 
chair,  (which  a  man  promised  to  give  me  and  never  kept  his  word ;) 
and  would  you  say  that  in  that  room  about  eight  feet  square,  Avith  a 
little  miserable  table  and  chair,  it  was  not  possible  for  a  man  to 
write  an  immortal  treatise  ?  You  would  have  him  sit  on  a  meeting- 
house steeple,  and  write  under  the  broad  canopy  of  heaven.  You 
would  have  the  place  where  he  worked  bear  some  proportion  to  his 
magnificent  treatise.  But  what  a  man  can  do  does  not  depend  upon 
the  place  he  is  in.  His  head  and  heart  detei'mine  this.  You  may 
put  him  where  you  please  ;  he  does  not  care.  It  does  not  make  any 
difference  whether  a  bird  sits  on  the  topmost  bough,  or  the  lowest 
bough  of  a  tree ;  his  song  fills  the  air  all  round  about.  He  sits,  to 
all  intents  and  purposes,  wherever  his  song  goes. 

Now,  a  minister  stands  not  entangled  in  any  of  these  courses  of 
business,  and  he  is  better  able  to  judge  of  the  moral  effects  of  those 
courses,  than  the  men  who  are  in  them  ;  and  his  business  is  to  follow 
out  the  right  and  the  wrong  connected  with  them  in  their  infinite 
developments  and  applications.  He  is  the  friend  of  all  men — even  of 
wicked  men — a  better  friend  to  them  than  they  are  to  themselves, 
flashing  light  into  their  bat's-eyes,  sounding  alarms  in  their  deaf  ears, 
pointing  out  the  road  that  they  refuse  to  walk  in,  working  for  them, 
M'orking  for  the  community,  working  for  God  and  for  eternity.  And 
when  a  man  lives  in  this  inspiration,  do  you  suppose  he  fears  what 
men  shall  do  unto  him,  or  what  they  shall  say  about  him?  Is  there 
any  tiling  nobler  in  this  life  than  such  an  inspiration  ?  All  that  lies  in 
God's  broad  hemisphere  is  his.  All  that  the  seasons  bring  from  the 
equator  to  the  poles  is  his.  All  that  science  develops  is  his.  All 
that  art  knows  is  his.  All  that  there'  is  in  beauty ;  all  that  there  is  in 
power ;  all  that  there  is  in  treasure ;  and  all  that  there  is  in  know- 
ledge— these  are  his  instruments.  "  The  earth  is  the  Lord's,  and  the 
fullness  thereof;"  and  he  is  God's  son,  sent  of  his  father  to  do  God's 
work  among  men.  And  he  may  take  whatsoever  his  hands  can  handle, 
wherever  it  is.  All  things  are  right,  and  all  things  are  lawful,  to  him 
who  is  bent  on  doing  good. 

Is  there,  then,  any  other  calling  like  that  of  the  minister  of  the 
Gospel  ?  Is  there  any  other  business  that  is  so  nourishing  ?  Is  there 
any  other  business  that  has  in  it  such  intrinsic  honor  ?  Is  there  any 
other  business  in  which  a  man  can  so  well  afford  to  go  without  exter- 
nal praise,  when  it  is  interpreted  in  this  large  light  ? 

Oh  !  to  bring  men  back  to  the  All-Lover.  Oh  !  to  rebuke  in- 
iquity, that  it  may  grow  strong  unto  righteousness.  Oh  !  to  make 
men  your  enemies,  that  they  may  become  your  lovers.  Oh  !  to  wound 
them,  that  they  may  be  healed  into  greater  strength ;  to  slay  them, 


822  SPHERE  OF  THE  CHBISTIAN  MINISTEB. 

that  they  may  live  again,  and  live  forever — is  there  any  business 
that  is  nobler  and  more  transcendent  than  this  ? 

While  men  go  delving  in  the  mines  of  this  world,  while  men 
pursue  their  various  avocations,  I  would  not  say  one  word  of  dis- 
couragement to  them ;  but  when  they  look  with  pity  upon  me, 
and  say,  "  Because  you  are  a  minister  your  sphere  must  needs  be  cir- 
cumscribed, and  you  must  be  a  kind  of  recluse,"  they  xmderstand  it 
not.  Higher  than  any  other  calling  is  that  which  stands  between 
God  and  man  in  the  spirit  of  love  and  fidelity. 

If  there  be  those,  then,  that  are  in  the  midst  of  life,  or  are  enter- 
ing life,  and  have  had  serious  thoughts  whether  it  was  not  their  duty 
to  become  preachers  of  the  Gospel,  but  have  been  held  away  by 
some  ambitious  sister,  or  some  sweetheart,  who  has  had  thoughts  of 
public  honor  and  glory;  if  there  be  some  that  have  looked  wearily 
at  the  till  and  the  chest,  and  have  wondered  and  pondered  whether 
it  was  best  for  them  to  throw  away  their  life  in  the  poverty  of  the 
pulpit;  if  there  are  any  that  have  heard  their  companions  gleefully 
marking  out  their  vocation,  and  magnifying  its  trials  and  self-denials, 
and  have  sunk  back  from  the  prospect  that  they  have  before  them, 
let  me  say  to  you.  All  these  are  deluding  influences.  I  am  hnppier 
every  year  of  my  life  than,  I  had  almost  said,  all  the  votaries  of  plea- 
sure ;  I  have  remunerations  in  one  year  of  my  life  greater  than  all  they 
have  that  pursue  the  phantom  of  ambition. 

I  am  angry  when  I  liear  people  talk  about  the  "  awful  respon- 
sibility "  of  being  a  minister.  People  sometimes  say  to  me,  "  I  should 
think  you  would  shudder  when  you  stand  up  before  your  congrega- 
tion." I  shudder?  what  should  I  shudder  for  ?  Do  you  shudder  when 
you  stand  up  before  a  garden  of  flowers  ?  Do  you  shudder  when  you 
go  into  an  orchard  of  fruit  in  October  ?  Do  you  shudder  when  you 
stand  up  in  the  midst  of  all  the  richness  and  grandeur  of  nature  ?  I 
shudder  in  your  midst  ?  "  But  the  responsibility  !"  I  have  no  res- 
ponsibility. I  am  willing  to  do  my  duty ;  and  what  more  is  there  than 
that  ?  I  will  not  stand  for  the  consequences.  I  will  do  the  best  I 
can.  I  will  say  the  best  things  I  can  every  Sunday  ;  I  will  bring 
the  truth  home  to  you  ;  and  I  will  do  it  in  the  spirit  of  love.  Even 
when  I  say  the  severest  things,  it  is  because  I  am  faithful  to  love. 
"  But  your  care !"  I  have  not  a  bit  of  care.  I  forget  the  sermon  a  great 
deal  quicker  than  you  do.  "  Your  burden  !"  I  have  no  burden.  I  take 
itp  the  battle,  and  I  lay  tlie  battle  aside  again  as  soon  as  it  is  over. 
And  I  shall  sleep  to-night  as  sweetly  as  any  man  that  is  here.  And 
every  man  that  is  in  the  ministry,  and  is  willing  to  love  men,  and  to 
be  faithful  to  them,  will  find  joy  in  it  from  day  to  day. 

I  am  the  happiest  man  that  lives.  You  could  not  tempt  me  out 
of  this  place.     Suppose  they  had  ofiered  me  the  senatorship  of  the 


SPHERE  OF  TEE   CHRISTIAN  A7NISTER.  323 

United  States,  do  you  suppose  I  would  have  accepted  it  ?  Never, 
never  !  I  do  not  expect  to  be  tried  !  It  is  not  the  style  of  men  that 
they  are  after  now  !  Tliey  do  not  look  into  churches  and  pulpits  for 
public  men,  to-day!  But  were  they  to  do  it,  .there  would  be  no 
temptation  in  it.  There  could  be  no  temptation  in  it.  Do  you  sup- 
pose I  could  be  bribed  out  of  the  pulpit  if  Brown  Brothers  offered 
me  a  full  half-partnership  in  their  business  ?  Never  !  There  is  not 
money  enough  in  all  the  Rothschilds'  coffers  to  bring  me  the  happiness 
that  I  have  in  your  confidence  and  generous  support,  and  the  liberty 
which  I  have  of  discharging  my  conscience  by  free  speech  in  your 
midst.  I  tell  you,  there  is  a  secret  in  living  to  do  good.  There  is  a 
secret  in  fidelity  to  men's  consciences,  and  in  that  sympathy  which 
can  appeal  to  God  and  say,  "  Thou  knowest  that  I  loA^e  my  country  ; 
thou  knowest  that  I  love  my  fellow-men  ;  thou  knowest  that  I  love 
thee,  and  that  my  whole  life,  from  core  to  circumference,  and  from  cir- 
cumference back  to  core  again,  is  in  this  blessed  work  of  reconciling 
men  to  God,  and  thus  building  them  up  in  Christian  virtue  and  purity." 
More  of  happiness  than  you  can  extract  from  wealth,  or  honor,  or 
pleasure  itself,  you  can — I  say  to  every  young  man  who  is  rightly  en- 
dowed, and  Avho  has  a  heart  that  beats  for  this  world — extract  from 
the  sphere  of  the  Christian  minister.  You  never  will  find  a  nobler 
sphere  than  that.  If  you  come  for  the  sake  of  honor,  if  you  come 
for  the  sake  of  support,  keep  away ;  but  if  you  love  the  work,  and 
are  willing  to  take  it  through  good  report  and  through  evil  report, 
there  is  not  on  this  earth  another  calling  that  delights  as  it  does  to 
be  an  ambassador  for  Christ,  and  to  be  a  friend  of  man  among  men. 

Here  is  a  place  where  a  man,  humbling  himself,  becomes  a  leader. 
Here  is  a  place  where  a  man,  throwing  his  life  away,  finds  it.  The 
pulpit  is  above  all  other  places  on  the  earth.  It  is  higher  than  the 
law,  higher  than  the  Senate,  higher  than  the  Governor's  seat,  higher 
than  the  Presidency.  And  it  is  open  to  all.  You  can  come  if  you 
love  the  business,  and  here  you  will  find  joys  that  care  can  not  ruflle, 
and  remitnerations  that  time  itself  can  not  take  from  you. 

And  the  best  of  it  is,  that  when  you  have  had  all  this,  you  have 
had  nothing.  It  is  but  just  a  small  handful  of  first-fruits  thi'own  for- 
ward. The  full  reward  shall  come  Avhen  God  shall  gather  the  little 
children.  And  those  that  I  have  brought  in  here — you  and  I — a 
great  company  of  us — shall  stand  together  in  the  presence  of  the 
Redeemer,  and  see  the  smile  of  his  love  and  the  outstretching  of  his 
hands,  and  feel  the  beginning  of  heaven,  which  we  are  to  enjoy  for- 
ever and  forever. 

Oh  !  call  me  not  away  !  Tempt  me  to  nothing  else !  Now, 
henceforth,  and  forever  let  me  know  Christ  for  you,  for  your  house- 
hold, for  your  commerce,  for  your  political  economy,  for  your  public 


324  8PEEBE  OF  THE  CHRIBTIAN  MINISTER. 

affairs,  for  the  State,  for  the  nation,  and  the  world — Christ,  the 
Healer  and  the  Redeemer. 


PRAYER    BEFORE   THE    SERMON. 

Thou  hast  helped  us  hitherto,  and  thon  wilt  help  us,  Lord  God  of  our  salvation.  Because 
thou  art  better,  because  thou  art  purer,  we  that  are  sinful  have  hope.  Not  under  thy  frown  is 
there  hope.  Thy  terrors  could  not  heal.  The  broken  in  heart  have  needed  thy  gentleness 
and  found  it.  It  is  of  the  Lord's  mercy  that  we  are  saved.  It  is  thy  goodness  that  leads  to 
repentance.  Thy  faithfulness  is  our  hope.  We  are  saved  by  hope.  And  we  commend  ourselves 
to  thee  again,  in  all  thy  mercifulness  and  grace,  not  as  though  thou  needest  to  be  persuaded,  but 
because  it  is  needful  for  us  to  entreat.  We  cast  ourselves  upon  thy  mercy,  acknowledging  our 
ill-desert ;  acknowledging  how  far  we  are  from  thee  ;  how  our  whole  soul  has  been  wrapped  up 
in  this  world,  in  its  selfishness,  in  its  pride,  in  its  passions  ;  how  we  have  listened  to  the  evil  per- 
suader ;  and  how  subtle  temptations  have  pierced  us.  We  acknowledge  the  way  in  which  we  have 
walked.  We  acknowledge  the  way  in  which  we  have  worshiped  ourselves— and  not  the  best 
part  of  ourselves ;  and  have  alienated  ourselves  from  the  life  of  a  true  holiness ;  and  have 
refused  to  listen  and  have  not  heard  the  voice  of  God  ;  and  have  defiled  our  heart ;  and  have  be- 
come altogether  unworthy  of  thy  care  and  of  thy  goodness. 

We  make  mention  of  these  things  before  thee,  O  God  I  and  love  to  mention  them ;  for  over 
against  all  our  unworthiness  rises  the  majesty  and  the  glory  of  thy  transcendent  love.  Because 
thou  art  pure,  out  of  thy  soul  streams  evermore  the  cleansing  influence  by  which  we  are  made 
pure.  Because  thou  art  infinite  in  thy  intelligence,  we  shall  rise  through  gradations  of  know- 
ledge for  evermore.  Because  thou  art  strong,  we  shall  in  our  helplessness  be  spared  and  raised 
up  by  the  might  of  thine  arm  until  we  stand  in  Zion  and  before  God.  And  thenceforward,  going 
on  with  thee,  advancing  forever  and  forever  in  stature  of  being,  we  glorify  thy  name ;  we  rejoice 
in  thy  government ;  we  aspire  to  some  place,  though  it  be  the  lowest,  in  thy  kingdom ;  we  count 
it  an  honor  to  bear  thy  name.  O  Lord  our  God  !  teach  us  to  so  carry  it  that  it  shall  be  brighter 
and  more  glorious  in  the  eyes  of  men  than  any  name  that  is  named  in  heaven  or  on  earth  ;  that  at 
the  name  of  Jesus  every  tongue  may  confess  and  every  knee  bow. 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  from  day  to  day  we  may  grow  in  the  nourishment  of  love  toward 
the  stature  of  perfect  men  in  Christ  Jesus.  Behold  the  struggle  and  the  warfare  which  each  one 
wages — some  with  pride,  as  their  more  easily  besetting  sin  ;  some  with  self-indulgence  ;  some 
with  vanity ;  some  with  the  love  of  gain  ;  some  vrith  hardness  of  heart  and  cruelty  of  temper ; 
some  with  doubt  and  unbelief;  some  with  passions  ;  some  with  deceits  and  crafty  temptations. 
Thou  knowest  each  one's  battle-field.  Thou  art  able  to  arm  each  one.  Thon  art  able  to  make 
his  bow  strong  in  the  day  of  battle. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  draw  near  to  each  one,  and  succor  him  in  his  necessity,  and 
inspire  him  in  the  midst  of  his  life's  duties,  and  carry  him  forward  unto  victory.  May  it  chide 
us,  may  it  weary  us,  that  we  are  gaining  so  little.  May  we  long  for  advancement.  As  they  that 
linger  in  the  camp,  worn  out  by  inaction,  love  to  hear  the  sound  for  the  campaign,  so  may  it  be  unto 
us.  May  we  press  forward ;  may  we  long  for  greater  activity ;  may  we  never  be  weary  in  well- 
doing, neither  in  ourselves  nor  in  others ;  may  we  feel  that  we  are  called  of  God ;  that  the  field  is  the 
world  ;  that  it  is  our  field  ;  that  all  men  are  ours  ;  that  aU  things  are  ours,  and  we  are  Christ's, 
and  Christ  is  God's.  And  in  this  blessed  fellowship,  in  this  glorious  connection,  more  and  more 
every  day,  may  we  fill  out  our  hours,  may  we  speed  with  all  our  might  along  the  way  wherein  we 
are  traveling,  that  the  will  of  God  may  be  fulfilled  in  us. 

Bless  this  night  the  services  of  thy  sanctuary.  Bless  us  that  are  gathered  together  here.  May 
some  word  of  strength  and  enlightenment  and  cheer  fall  for  the  weary  and  for  the  wayfarer. 
Bless,  we  beseech  of  thee,  our  fellowship,  our  songs  of  praise,  our  communion,  our  instruction, 
and  every  thing  we  do  in  thy  name.  Guide  us  from  Sunday  to  Sunday,  until  at  last  we  rise  to  that 
rest  which  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God. 

And  we  will  give  the  praise  of  our  salvation  to  the  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit.    Amen. 


XXI. 

SUFFEKIs^G,  THE  MEASUEE    OF   WOETH. 


SUFFERING,  THE  MEASURE  OF  WORTH. 

SUNDAY  MORNING,  JANUARY  31,  1869. 


INVOCATION. 


Grant  unto  us,  tMs  morning,  tliy  reviving  presence,  0  our  Father !  Awaken 
us,  as  we  do  our  cliildren,  bringing  them  forth  to  joy,  and  to  the  duties  of  tlie  day. 
Reach  forth  thine  hand.  Arouse  us  from  sloth — from  shimber.  Deliver  us,  this 
day,  we  beseech  of  thee,  from  death,  inward  and  spiritual ;  and  by  thy  reviving 
power  bring  us  into  a  true  life  of  communion  with  thee.  And  in  the  light  of  thy 
spirit  may  all  truth  be  discerned  clearly  by  us.  May  our  souls  take  hold  upon  it. 
May  we  feed  upon  it  as  upon  food.  Glorify  thyself  in  all  the  services  of  the  sanc- 
tuary. Inspire  our  prayer.  Accept  our  songs  of  thanksgiving.  Bless  our  ser- 
vice of  instruction.  Guide  us  in  all  the  duty  and  the  joy  of  this  day.  Sanctify  our 
homes  and  their  fellowship.  And  fiEaJly  bring  us  to  thine  everlasting  rest,  in 
thine  heavenly  kingdom,  through  Christ  our  Lord.    Amen. 


"And  tlirough  thy  knowledge  shall  the  weak  brother  perish,  for  whom 
Christ  died  ?  But  when  ye  sin  so  against  the  brethren,  and  wound  their  weak 
conscience,  ye  sin  against  Christ." — 1  Cor.  viii.  11-13. 

This  is  the  exact  state  of  facts  which  is  recurring  in  every  age, 
and  which,  from  the  very  nature  of  human  society  and  of  the  human 
mind,  must  continually  recur.  Men  in  the  beginning  are  educated 
largely  by  rules  or  by  symbols  ;  and  this  kind  of  instruction,  though 
necessary  from  the  nature  of  man,  always  involves  more  or  less  of 
limitation  and  of  error.  And  as  men  rise  in  the  scale,  there  will 
always  be  those  who  will  shoot  faster  forward,  and  discern  princi- 
ples instead  of  rules,  and  will,  therefore,  be  in  a  condition  to  drop  a 
thousand  instruments  that  are  concerned  in  right  living,  while  they 
hold  on  to  the  substantial  spirit  of  right  living.  But  while  they  are 
doing  this,  they  are  obliged  to  do  it  in  the  presence  and  under  the 
interpretation  of  those  that  are  lower  than  they  are.  A  man  all  his 
life  long  has  a  superstitious  notion  regarding  certain  observances 
which,  when  he  comes  to  be  twenty-five  or  thirty  years  of  age,  he 
sees  that  he  may  dispense  with  ;  that  they  were  mere  instruments ; 
that  there  was  no  sanctity  in  them,  though  there  was  some  use. 

But  those  that  are  below  him,  and   round    about   him,  have  a 

LbbsoN    1  Cor.  ix.    Htmks  (Plymouth  Collection) :  IIT,  907,  !U9. 


826  SUFFEItING,  TEE  MEASURE  OF  WORTH. 

Buperstitious  feeling  with  respect  to  these  things ;  and  his  example 
is  very  apt,  not  so  much  to  enlighten  them,  as  to  shock  them ;  and 
they  are  led  to  feel  that  there  is  no  wrong  in  certain  things  which 
before  they  always  supposed  to  be  wrong ;  that  things  are  right 
which  to  them  are  not  right.  And  the  apostle  lays  down  this  rule  : 
That  it  is  a  poor  use  to  make  of  one's  superior  intelligence,  and  the 
liberty  that  goes  with  it,  to  set  such  an  example  as  leads  men  to 
stumble  to  their  hurt ;  as  misleads  their  weaker  judgment.  And  he 
goes  on  to  insta.nce,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  chapter  which  I  read  in 
the  opening  service,  how  he  took  the  sum  total  of  his  manhood,  and 
refused  to  use  it  for  himself,  according  to  his  own  perceptions — ac- 
cording to  the  high  scale  on  which  he  saw  the  truth.  He  made  him- 
self any  thing  and  every  thing  to  his  fellow-men.  If  he  was  with 
the  Jews,  he  would  not  violate  their  j^rejudices.  He  preferred  to 
conform  to  them  in  things  that  were  not  absolutely  in  themselves 
wrong,  for  the  sake  of  keeping  an  influence  upon  them.  When  he 
went  out  from  among  them  to  the  Gentiles — who  had  no  such  institu- 
tions, ordinances,  and  notions  as  the  Jews  had,  but  who  had  a  certain 
sort  of  natural  theology,  he  assumed  their  ground  ;  but  there  Avas 
no  inconsistency  in  him ;  for  there  was  some  truth  in  it.  There  is  some- 
thing of  truth  in  every  thing.  And  wherever  he  went,  he  made 
himself  all  things  to  all  men  ;  because  the  business  of  his  life  was  to 
save  men — to  do  good  to  men. 

In  this  case,  a  man  has  taken  the  notion  that  the  meat  which  baa 
once  been  oifered  before  an  idol  has  received  no  moral  taint,  and  is 
changed  in  no  whit.  He  therefore  sits  down  and  eats  such  meat. 
At  the  same  time  he  understands  that  he  is  not  worshiping  a  god, 
or  giving  his  assent  to  this  pagan  principle.  But  some  weak 
brother,  seeing  and  knowing  it,  says,  "  He  eats  that  meat  for  an  idol, 
and  thinks  it  right  to  worship  an  idol ;"  and  he  goes  in  and  eats  the 
meat  and  worships  the  idol.  And  under  such  circumstances  Paul 
says,  "  Your  knowledge  misleads  him.  You  act  from  one  interior 
set  of  motives,  and  he  interj)rets  your  action  according  to  the  mo- 
tives which  act  on  him ;  and  so  he  misjudges  you.  i3ut  you  have 
no  right  to  make  your  superior  excellence  a  snai'e." 

This  is  the  view  which  we  are  very  apt  to  lose  sight  of — and 
the  more  because  there  is  an  opposite  view.  Men  say,  and  say 
rightly,  "  If  you  never  were  to  go  faster  and  further  than  the  igno- 
rance and  the  prejudices  of  your  fellow-men,  society  could  never 
rise.  If  a  man  is  enlightened,  he  must  do  something  to  enlighten 
other  men."  That  is  true,  and  just  as  true  as  the  other.  Both  these 
things  are  to  be  carried  on  together.  It  is  only  another  illustration 
of  th3  universal  fact  that  all  truths  are  in  oppositions — in  opposite 
pairs.     We  have,  in  one  way  or  another,  to  pull  men  up  from  a  lower 


SUFFEBING.   THE  MEASURE  OF  WORTH.  327 

to  a  higher  degree  of  knowledge,  and  character,  and  activity ;  and 
yet  we  are  to  do  it  all  the  time  with  our  eye  and  heart  sensitive  to 
this  thing — that  we  are  not  to  go  faster  than  other  men,  or  in  such 
ways  as  to  snare  them  into  doing  things  that  are  wrong.  We  are 
not,  by  our  liberty  or  by  our  superior  knowledge,  to  imperil  them. 
So  much  for  the  introduction  of  the  subject. 

The  thing  for  which  I  selected  this  text  is  the  phrase,  "  For  whom 
Christ  died.''''  Therein  is  t"he  key-note  of  value.  "  Through  thy 
knowledge  shall  the  weak  brother  perish?"  The  "  weak  brother  "  is 
not  of  much  value  in  himself;  but  he  is  made  valuable  by  the  fact 
that  Christ  died  for  him.  Christ's  suffering  for  him  is  the  measure 
of  his  value. 

This  doctrine  of  Christ's  suffering  has  stirred  the  human  m  ind 
with  incessant  activity,  and  opened  illimitable  ranges  of  thought  in 
many  directions  ;  but  it  is  not  exhausted  yet.  "Why  must  he  suffer  ? 
What  was  the  nature  of  the  suffering  ?  Is  it  possible  for  the  divine 
to  suffer  ?  Was  it  not  merely  human,  nature  that  suffered  ?  Did  the 
sufferings  of  Christ  act  ujoon  the  divine  policy?  or  upon  the  heavenly 
intelligence  ?  or  upon  the  human  race  ?  Were  the  sufferings  of 
Christ  a  literal  assumption,  measure  for  measure,  of  anticipated  human 
suffering  ?  Did  his  suffering  solve  unrevealed  diiBculties  of  admin- 
istration ? 

These  largely  forensic  questions  have  drawn  out  the  heart  and  the 
reason  of  the  Christian  world,  and  rendered  them  extraordinarily 
productive.  The  opinions  have  been  exceedingly  diverse,  exceedingly 
combative,  and  exceedingly  divisive.  Again,  on  the  most  precious 
point  of  the  life  of  Christ,  his  garment  has  been  divided,  and  almost 
endlessly;  but  there  is  one  view  of  the  suffering  and  death  of  Christ 
which  has  always  been  fruitful  of  good,  and  which  can  hardly  be  too 
much  insisted  upon.  Leaving  these  other  and  moi-e  accustomed  dis- 
cussions in  respect  to  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  I  purpose  to  call  your 
attention  to  this  view— I  mean  the  moral  effect  which  the  suffering 
of  Christ  has  had  in  determining  the  value  and  the  dignity  of  human 
nature.  Christ's  death  for  all  mankind  has  inspired  the  imagination 
and  the  understanding  of  the  world  with  a  humanity,  a  justice,  a 
considerate  and  active  pity,  which  could  hardly  have  sprung  from 
any  other  source  or  view. 

Suffering,  in  its  most  comprehensive  sense,  is  universally  accepted 
as  the  measure  of  value  w^hich  one  puts  upon  an  object.  By  suffering 
I  do  not  mean  simply  pain ;  but  care,  labor,  time,  endeavor.  How 
much  of  themselves  men  will  give  for  one  anotl  er,  measures  the 
worth  in  which  that  other  is  held.  "I  love  you,"  may  mean  only, 
"  you  are  my  plaything."  To  say,  "I  love  you,"  may  mean  only,  "  I 
love  myself."     But  they  that  love  truly,  love  under  conditions  in 


328      SUFFERING,   TEE  MEASURE  OF  WORTH. 

which  they  will  be  willing  to  give  themselves  for  the  object  loved ; 
and  how  much  they  esteem,  value,  love,  is  measured  by  what  they 
are  willing  to  suffer,  A  man  may  love  another  witliout  being  obliged 
to  suffer  for  him.  That  is,  there  may  be  no  necessity  for  putting  the 
strength  of  his  love  to  a  test.  But  if  one  is  brought  into  circumstances 
•where  his  affection  is  to  be  proved  and  tested,  it  will  be  found  that 
suffering  is  the  measure  of  affection.  In  other  words,  how  much  cf 
one's  self  one  will  part  with  for  another,'  indicates  the  value  put  upon 
that  other.  True  love  will  give  up  for  another's  sake  time  and  con- 
venience. It  will  forsake  its  own  courses  to  take  on  care  and  activity 
for  that  other.  It  will  continue  to  do  this  through  long  periods.  It 
will  employ  reason,  moral  sense,  affection,  and,  in  short,  all  the  re- 
sources of  its  being,  for  the  sake  of  that  friend.  It  will,  as  it  were, 
stop  the  flow  of  life  in  the  channels  of  one's  own  being,  and  pour  it 
into  the  life  of  another,  to  give  him  pleasure,  power,  honor,  and  hap- 
piness. And  when,  in  some  great  exigency,  all  this  will  not  avail,  and 
nothing  will  do  but  to  yield  up  the  very  substance  of  secular  life,  then 
love,  in  the  glory  of  its  power, -goes  to  death  as  to  the  consummation 
of  itself,  and  leaves  a  witness  to  itself  which  all  mankind  recognizes. 
For  it  is  the  universal  instinct,  and  judgment  as  well,  that  greater 
love  than  this  can  no  man  shoio :  that  he  lay  doion  his  life  for  his 
friend. 

Even  when  this  is  the  fruit  of  instinct,  it  is  impressive.  The  bear 
that  dies  defending  its  cubs — who  does  not  admire  it?  The  elephant 
that  puts  itself  between  the  hunter  and  its  grotesque  little  calf, 
bristling  with  spears  all  over,  thrust  into  its  hide,  and  marking  every 
footstep  with  blood — who  can  do  other  than  admire  it?  The  hound 
that  pines  and  dies  on  its  master's  grave — can  any  human  being  see 
it  unmoved  ?  The  little  sparrow  that  fights  the  hawk  and  owl,  not 
for  itself  but  for  its  nest — who  but  admires  the  bravery  of  the  little 
hero  ?  One  must  be  heartless  indeed,  to  feel  no  admiration  for  these 
fidelities  of  love,  where  love,  after  all,  is  but  an  instinct,  and  not  a 
rational  judgment. 

But  how  much  more  when  one's  love  and  suffering  spring  from 
the  pei'ception  of  excellence  in  an  object  loved  ?  The  greater  the 
nature  that  suffers,  the  higher  is  the  estimate  which  his  example  gives 
of  the  value  of  that  for  which  he  suffers.  And  by  this  analogue,  the 
suffering  and  sacrifice  of  a  Divine  Being  carries  out  the  witness  to  its 
utmost  conceivable  extent.  For  it  was  supposed  that  God  was  mani- 
fest in  the  flesh,  and  that  he  meant  his  living,  passion,  and  death  to 
be  the  measure  of  his  judgment  of  the  value  of  mankind.  What  must 
be  the  testimony  and  the  force  brought  to  the  value  of  man  by  such 
a  Being's  suffering  ? 

We  see  at  once  a  new  element  in  the  hands  of  the  apostles  aftei 


SUFFERING,   THE  MEASURE  OF  WORTH.  829 

this  testimony  of  the  Master,  l^o  sooner  was  he  gone  up,  than  they 
began  to  preach  that  man  was  vahiable  on  account  of  what  Christ 
had  suffered  for  him.  A  man  for  whom  Christ  died  became  a  very 
different  creature  in  imagination  from  a  man  before  Christ  had  died 
for  him.  The  fact  that  Christ  had  died  for  a  man  built  bulwarks 
round  about  him,  and  made  him  Avorth  protecting,  if  he  vas  weak. 
It  laid  a  shield  before  him,  and  made  it  worth  while  to  keep  him  un- 
pierced  by  temptation  or  by  rude  assault.  Though  he  was  ignoble 
and  unknown,  it  was  the  mysterious  power  of  this  testimony  of  this 
greatest  Being  that  ever  lived  upon  the  earth,  respecting  each  indivi- 
dual of  the  svhole  human  family,  that  he  was  in  his  sight  of  such  value 
that  he  was  worth  suffering  for,  and  worth  doing  for.  It  was  this 
that  gave  man  his  true  position  in  history,  and  gives  him  his  true 
dignity  and  his  true  position  itow. 

Although  we  have  but  begun  to  I'ead  this  lesson,  it  is  indispensa- 
ble for  all  the  purposes  of  instruction  derived  from  this  view  that  we 
should  reflect  that  our  Saviour  died  for  the  whole  world.  It  was  not 
simply  because  he  despised  pride  and  luxury  that  he  refused  to  be 
counted  with  the  rich  in  life;  it  was  not  alone  because  he  did  not  be- 
lieve in  dynasties  :  it  was  a  part  of  his  life's  work  to  bear  a  testimony, 
not  so  much  to  individuals  as  to  the  race.  lie  died  for  the  world — 
not  for  those  that  then  dwelt  upon  the  earth,  but  for  the  whole  hu- 
man family  in  its  entirety — in  its  Avhole  historical  development.  Christ 
died  to  bear  testimony  to  the  worth  that  there  was  in  mankind.  Any 
man  is  intrinsically  of  such  dignity,  scope,  value,  that  he  is  to  be  mea- 
sured by  nothing  so  worthily  as  by  the  love,  the  sufferings  and  the 
death  of  his  God. 

This  suffering  was  not  founded,  either,  upon  man's  character.  It 
would  be  a  testimony  to  the  value  of  good  character  if  Christ  had  come 
to  die  for  it ;  but  that  was  the  very  point  of  conflict  between  him  and 
the  Phai'isees.  They  held  that  Christ,  as  the  divine  Teacher,  ought  to 
suffer  and  identify  himself  with  them;  but  he  most  scornfully  rejected 
that,  and  said,  "  I  did  not  come  to  seek  the  righteous  :  I  came  to  call 
sinnei-s  to  repentance."  Not  simply  because  they  were  in  peril,  but 
because  the  testimony  that  he  was  bearing  to  mankind  required  that 
he  should  not  identify  himself  with  a  particular  class,  and  that  he 
should  not  on  that  account  identify  himself  with  character.  For  he 
who  identifies  himself  with  character  in  this  world  ere  long  will  be 
borne  into  a  class.  Our  Master,  therefore,  says,  "  I  died  for  the  un- 
godly ;  for  the  unrighteous  ;  for  my  enemies.  I  came  to  give  my  lite 
for  the  lowest  and  the  worst  men.''  He  more  sharply  than  any  other 
being  that  ever  dwelt  on  the  earth  discriminated  between  good  cha- 
racter and  bad  character,  and  gave  emphasis  to  the  value  of  goodness, 
and  heaped  up  terrible  woes  against   wickedness,  and  made  awful 


830  SUFFEEWG,   THE  MEASUI^E  OF  WORTH. 

threats  of  its  doom.  Yet  there  was  something  behind  character  to 
which  Christ  was  bearing  witness,  and  that  was  the  abstract  original 
value  which  inheres  in  Avhat  we  call  human  life — ^liuraan  being.  Tiie 
death  of  Christ  is  a  testimony  to  the  value,  of  man  in  his  very  sub- 
stance, if  I  may  so  say;  so  that  the  least  and  the  lowest,  the  most  un- 
dcA-eloped,  have  the  essence  of  value  in  them.  The  Hottentot,  the 
.Nootka  Sound  Indian,  the  most  degraded  African  tribes,  the  lowest 
races  of  men  about  which  philosophers  calmly  and  coolly  talk  as  to 
whether  they  are  men,  or  monkeys  sprouted  in  the  hotbed  of  extreme 
civilization,  and  growing  a  little  way — these  have  their  value.  Of  the 
whole  human  family,  in  all  its  diversities,  there  is  this  testi^nony — 
Christ  died  for  them.  You  may  separate  men  from  each  other  by  the 
shape  of  their  heels ;  you  may  separate  them  by  the  peculiarity  of  their 
hair  or  the  color  of  their  skin;  you  may  separate  them  by  some 
trifling  variation  of  bone  structure ;  but  there  is  no  difference  between 
one  race  and  another  in  this — that  every  one  of  them  has  reason,  and 
its  special  foculties  ;  the  imagination,  and  its  special  relations ;  the 
moral  sense,  and  its  special  developments.  The  original  elements  are 
traceable  in  every  human  being;  in  every  tribe  upon  the  globe,  how- 
ever low  and  undeveloped  it  may  be.  The  rudiments  of  every  facul- 
ty that  the  highest  have  are  in  all,  and  identify  them  as  one  great 
brotherhood;  and  for  all,  however  despised,  however  degraded,  how- 
ever worthless  in  political  economy  they  may  be,  there  is  this  testi- 
mony, which  stands  silently  through  the  ages — Christ  died  for  them ; 
and  death,  as  the  highest  exposition  of  suffering,  was  the  measure  of 
value,  as  well  as  the  measure  of  love. 

Let  us  look,  then,  after  this  annunciation  of  the  principle,  at  the 
effect  which  this  fict  has  of  determining  man's  place,  his  rights,  and 
his  worth. 

Consider,  first,  what  the  world's  way  of  estimation  has  been  in 
judging  men.  We  estimate  men's  value  by  measuring  their  power. 
Earliest,  inen  measure  physical  power.  They  are  the  great  men  who 
are  strong,  and  courageous  withal.  Men  Avho  had  strength,  and  capa- 
city to  use  the  strength,  were  the  first  heroes,  the  first  leaders,  the 
first  legislators,  the  first  demigods  and  demidevils.  Next  came  men 
that  were  fruitful,  effect-producing  in  the  next  higher  range  of  facul- 
ties— not  in  the  physical  elements,  but  in  the  civic  and  the  social 
elements,  till  they  reached  to  what  is  called  "  civilization,"  where  we 
stand  ourselves.  And  now  the  habit  of  society  is  to  classify  men 
into  relative  ranks  of  value  by  the  effects  which  they  are  able  to  pro- 
duce and  exhibit.  The  man  that  produces  the  most  effects  is  consid- 
ered the  most  of  a  man ;  and  insensibly  we  have  slid  into  this  idea,  that 
a  man  who  can  not  do  any  thing  is  not  any  thing  ;  that  a  man's  value 
lies  in  his  productive  power.     In  other  words,  because  this  is  a  truth 


SUFFERING,   THE  MEASURE  OF  WORTH.  ?,?)\ 

in  the  range  of  political  economy,  we  have  adopted  it  as  the  solo 
measure  of  men.  Becaiise  we  measure  men  rightly  by  this  principle 
in  their  relations  to  human  society ;  because  we  rightly  apply  this 
principle  in  estimating  their  value  to  society  organizations,  we  liave 
come  to  think  that  men  are  valuable  only  by  what  they  are  worth  to 
society.  Therefore,  when  a  great  man  dies,  men  say,  "The  world 
has  met  with  a  great  loss."  It  has  met  with  a  much  greater  loss 
than  if  a  poor  man  had  died.  If  a  poor  man  dies,  men  say,  "The 
world  has  one  less  incumbrance."  Regarding  this  world  as  a  mere 
organization  of  secular  society,  that,  too,  is  true  ;  but  behind  the  pau- 
per's uselessness,  deeper  than  the  question  of  his  effect-producing 
power,  there  is  a  human  nature.  There  is  something  in  every  man 
— the  lowest  and  the  least.  If  he  can  not  weave ;  if  he  can  not  forge ; 
if  he  can  not  shove  the  plane,  or  hold  the  wheel  or  the  helm  ;  if  he  can 
not  paint  nor  Avrite ;  if  he  can  not  reason  with  philosophy  nor  adorn 
with  art,  even  if  he  lie  almost  torpid,  there  is  a  substance  in  him. 
He  is  the  rich  undug  ore  of  the  mountain.  And  that  is  in  itself  abso- 
lutely the  most  valuable  thing  that  there  is  on  earth.  The  dog  that 
hunts  well  is  better  than  a  pauper  that  does  not  do  any  thing,  in  the 
estimation  of  men.  A  horse  that  is  worth  fifty  thousand  dollars  in 
the  market  has  more  honor  as  well  as  more  care  bestowed  on  him 
than  a  man  that  can  neither  turn  at  the  lathe,  nor  work  at  the  alem- 
bic, nor  speak,  nor  do  any  thing  that  is  regarded  as  useful.  We 
judge  men  by  this  standard  of  political  economy — by  what  they  can 
<lo,  and  what  they  are  worth  ;  and  when  men  contrast  them  even  with 
the  brute  animals,  their  enthusiasm  rises  higher  for  these  dumb  crea- 
tures than  for  their  fellow-men.  There  is  no  such  contempt  on  the 
globe  for  any  thing  as  man  has  for  man.  If  a  tribe  can  do  nothing, 
they  are  regarded  as  contemptuously  worthless.  If  a  race  are  not 
able  to  hold  their  own  against  aggressive  races,  people  say,  "  It  is  a 
pity  that  there  should  be  any  cruelty  ;  but  what  else  could  you 
expect  ?  There  is  no  Avay  but  that  they  should  be  swept  from  the 
face  of  the  earth.  They  must  all  go."  Nations  of  men  that  are  dull, 
that  are  gentle,  that  are  kind — 'the  Chinese,  for  instance,  who  are  not 
aggressive — with  what  superlative  contempt  we  have  looked  upon 
them  !  In  many  respects  they  are  more  ingenious  and  skilful  than  we 
are,  and  yet  what  a  pagan  Anglo-Saxon  spirit  has  gone  out  from  us 
in  respect  to  them  !  We  are  pagan  in  our  notions.  Our  law  is  a  law 
of  power.  He  that  has  power  is  princely,  and  he  that  is  weak  is 
a  fool,  in  our  estimate  of  our  fellows. 

We  need  therefore  to  go  back  to  this  testimony  of  our  Master's 
example,  who  came  not  to  make  the  prince  more  authoritative  ;  who 
came  not  to  make  the  philosopher  more  widely  influential ;  who  came 
not  to  make  the  rich  man  more  an  object  of  admiration ;   who  came 


832  SUFFERING,   THE  MEASURE  OF  WORTH. 

not  to  make  the  laborious  and  productive  man  more  eminent;  but 
Avho  came  by  his  suiFeriug  and  death  to  bear  a  testimony  of  Uiat 
element  in  human  nature  which  every  man  has  like  every  other. 
The  king  and  the  paiiper ;  the  great  and  the  small ;  the  strong  and 
the  weak  ;  the  good  and  the  bad — God  causes  his  sun  to  rise  on  the  one 
and  the  other :  and  the  death  of  Christ  is  a  testimony  to  the  one  as 
well  as  to  the  other,  that  the  orignal,  fundamental,  inherent  elements 
of  human  nature  are  of  transcendent  value  in  the  sight  of  God.  He 
desjjises  no  man,  Man  it  is  that  despises  his  fellow-man  if  he  is  not 
a  creature  of  power  and  productiveness. 

Thus  it  is  that  we  classify  society  in  our  thought.  When  you 
think  of  society,  you  tliink  of  its  influential  parts.  When  you  think 
of  country,  and  are  proud  of  your  race,  and  of  your  people,  it  is  the 
strong  ones  that  subtly  affect  your  imagination  and  your  judgment. 
There  are  very  few  men  who  carry  in  their  thought  and  in  their  sym- 
pathy the  weak,  the  poor,  the  outcast,  the  neglected.  It  was  our 
Saviour  that  did  that;  and  oil !  how  few  there  are  that  have  learned 
•  yet  even  to  understand — still  less  to  imitate  ! 

There  is,  then,  tliis  substratum  of  value  in  human  nature.  It  is 
independent  of  character,  independent  of  education,  independent  of 
what  it  can  do,  arising  from  what  inherently  it  is — from  its  absolute 
universal  value.  And  the  testimony  of  that  great  fact  is,  Christ  died 
for  the  ungodly.  And  there  can  be  no  estimate  of  value  like  that 
which  is  evinced  by  willingness  to  die  for  another. 

This  view  dimly  interprets,  also,  the  future.  For  if  men  may  not 
be  estimated  by  what  they  can  do  here,  we  more  than  suspect  that  it 
must  arise  from  the  fact  that  the  potential  relatioiis  of  men  are  not 
all  developed  here,  and  that  they  are  creatures  of  another  latitude, 
of  another  summer,  with  another  chance,  in  other  spheres.  It  is  more 
than  dimly  intimated  that  man  lives  again.  That  is  "  brought  to  light." 
And  from  the  treatment  which  we  perceive  that  our  Saviour  adminis- 
tered to  the  bad,  to  the  evil,  in  this  world — to  men  whose  lives  had 
been  wasted  here — we  can  not  but  gather  a  sense  of  the  value  of  men 
that  inheres  in  those  relations  which  are  yet  to  take  hold  of  higher 
realms,  and  to  become  more  fruitful. 

It  is  not  for  me  to  say,  here,  whether  in  the  great  experiment  which 
we  are  now  making,  we  are  making  all  of  our  experiment.  I  merely 
point  to  the  general  fact  that  a  man  in  the  lowest  conditions  heie  is 
not  the  man  that  he  is  to  be ;  and  that  when  you  have  measured  him, 
and  weighed  him,  and  ascertained  just  what  he  is  worth  to  his  fami- 
ly, to  his  nation,  to  the  industry  of  the  world,  or  to  its  afl'ections  or 
moral  elements,  you  have  not  estimated  what  his  value  is.  You  have 
no  estimate  of  what  he  is  worth  in  the  kingdom  that  is  yet  to  come. 
He  has  before  him  another  world,  another  orb,  another  clime ;  and 


SUFFERI^sG,   THE  MEASURE  OF  WORTH.  333 

we  ai*e  told  most  solemnly  by  our  Saviour  that  the  men  avIio  are  worth 
tlie  most,  and  are  the  most  honored,  the  most  regarded,  here,  will  be 
worth  the  least  there.  "  The  first  shall  be  last,"  we  are  told,  and  "  the 
last  sliall  be  first."  Therefore  I  believe  that  there  is  many  an  obscure 
and  outcast  race,  that  there  is  many  a  class  in  society,  that  there  are 
individuals  innumerable,  whom  men  scarcely  deign  to  notice,  but  who, 
when  they  come  to  take  hold  upon  the  other  life,  and  when  the  rela- 
tions which  they  sustain  to  that  spiritual  realm  come  to  be  known, 
will  lift  themselves  mightily  above  all  others.  In  measuring  men  by 
what  they  are  worth  to  us  here,  we  mismeasm-e,  we  under-estimate, 
in  every  conceivable  way,  leaving  out  of  sight  the  blossoming  period 
which  is  to  come  hereafter. 

There  are  many  of  the  plants  of  our  northern  summer  which  come 
up  quickly,  which  rush  to  their  flowering  periods,  and  do  exceedingly 
well ;  but  they  are  coarse,  and  they  are  rank  at  that.  And  there  are 
many  seeds  that  I  plant  by  the  side  of  them  every  spring  which  in 
the  first  summer  only  grow  a  few  leaves  high.  There  is  not  sun  enough 
in  our  hemisphere,  nor  heat  enough  in  the  bosom  of  my  soil,  to  make 
them  do  what  it  is  in  them  to  do.  But  if  I  take  them  and  put  them 
in  some  sheltered  hot-house,  and  give  them  the  continuous  growth  of 
autumn  and  winter,  and  then  again,  when  June  begins  to  burn  in  the 
next  summer,  put  them  out  once  more,  they  gather  strength  by  this 
second  planting,  and  lift  up  their  arms,  and  spread  out  the  abundance 
of  their  blossoms,  and  are  the  pride  and  glory  of  the  spring.  The 
plants  that  grew  quickest  the  year  before,  are  now  called  weeds  by 
their  side.  And  I  doubt  not  that  there  is  many  a  man  who  rushes 
up  to  a  rank  growth  in  the  soil  of  this  world,  and  of  whom  men,  seeing 
him,  say,  "  That  is  a  great  man  ;"  but  there  are  many  starveling,  poor, 
feeble  and  effectless  creatures  in  this  world  who  will  be  carried  safely 
on  and  up,  and  rooted  in  a  better  clime ;  and  then,  lifting  up  their 
whole  nature,  they  will  come  out  into  that  glorious  summer  of  fer- 
vent love  in  heaven,  where  they  Avill  be  more  majestic,  more  trans- 
cendently  beautiful  in  blossoms,  and  more  exquisitely  sweet  in  fruit, 
than  those  who  so  fiir  surpass  them  here.  "  The  last  shall  be  first, 
and  the  first  shall  be  last." 

Do  not  despise  men  that  are  less  than  you  are.  Do  not  under- 
value men  because  they  are  not  of  much  account  in  this  world.  A 
man  may  be  a  very  good  man  if  he  is  not  a  carpenter  ;  if  he  does  not 
know  how  to  wield  the  hand  of  skill,  A  man  may  not  be  able  "to 
make  money,  and  yet  he  may  be  rich.  A  man  may  not  have  the 
power  to  generate  thoughts  here ;  but  by  and  by  he  wilh  Birds  da 
not  sing  the  moment  they  are  out  of  their  shell.  They  must  have  a 
season  in  which  to  learn  to  sing.  And  men  do  not  unfold  their  true  na- 
tures, or  sing  their  best  songs,  many  of  them,  in  this  world.      There 


334  suFFBuma,  tee  measure  oi  wouth. 

is  another  worl^  beyond  ;  and  there  is  no  man  that  has  aj^pearancea 
so  much  against  him  in  this  world  that  you  can  afford  to  despise  him, 
to  feel  contempt  for  him,  or  to  regard  him  as  worthless.  That  term 
worthless,  applied  to.  unaccomplishing  weakness,  in  this  world,  is 
pagan  ! 

Next,  let  us  point  out,  with  some  degree  of  particularity,  the  effects 
which  this  doctrine,  so  far  opened,  will  have  upon  our  feelings,  our 
conduct,  and  our  relations  to  our  fellow-men. 

Let  us  assume  that  we  have  come  into  the  full  sympathy  of  Christ's 
doctrine,  and  that  we  have  learned  to  measure  man's  value  as  he  did. 
Or,  not  being  able  to  see  it  as  he  did,  let  us  suppose  that  we  are  in 
full  possession  of  the  Christian  feeling —  Christ  died  for  that  inan. 
When  we  meet  a  man,  now,  how  seldom  does  any  other  thought  arise 
in  our  mind  than  of  his  ^jhysiological  structure,  of  his  age,  of  his 
comeliness,  and  of  his  relation  to  society.  Unconsciously,  as  we  pass 
men,  we  look  at  their  garb,  at  their  port  and  movement,  at  their  face  ; 
we  study  them  altogether  in  the  light  of  their  lower  education  ;  in 
the  light  of  this  world.  How  seldom,  looking  at  a  man,  does  the 
thought  come  into  our  mind,  "  Christ  died  for  him  !"  We  think  men 
to  be  worthy  of  our  pause  and  our  attention  if  they  have  some  intrin- 
sic value.  But  we  that  believe  in  Christ  Jesus,  and  have  his  word 
in  our  hand,  or  volubly  upon  our  lips,  every  day  behold  men  ;  and 
the  highest  relationship,  the  one  salient  feature  that  belongs  to  human 
life  is  the  very  one  that  we  almost  never  think  of — namely,  Christ 
died  for  them. 

No  man  but  a  Christian  can  enter  into  this  spirit;  and  all  Chris- 
tians do  not.  That  large  sympathy  with  human  nature  which  comes 
with  fellowship  with  Christ's  feeling;  that  rising  of  your  spirit  un- 
til you  come  to  the  stand-point  from  which  Christ,  looking  uj^on  the 
human  race,  says  of  every  one  of  them,  "  They  are  so  valuable,  poor 
and  weak  as  they  are,  that  they  are  worth  my  thought,  my  care,  my 
suffering,  and  my  very  death."  And  yet,  how  few  Christian  men 
there  are  that  have  any  such  valuation  of  human  nature  !  If,  however, 
one  has  it,  it  will  be  a  jDOwerful  restraint  upon  laAvless  liberty,  and 
will  bring  him  into  such  universal  sympathy  with  all  his  fellow-men, 
that,  at  the  sacrifice  of  his  own  convenience  and  his  own  rights,  it  will 
be  a  privilege  and  a  pleasure  for  him  to  serve  them. 

Some  men,  if  they  are  called  deliberately  to  give  up  their  rights, 
never  can  forget  it.  It  is  a  solitary  thing,  it  may  be,  that  they 
are  called  to  give  up,  which  causes  them  a  severe  struggle  ;  and  the  cir- 
cumstance is  emphasized  in  the  journal  of  experience.  If  they  are 
caught,  for  instance,  and  compelled  to  give,  or  to  yield  for  an- 
other's sake,  they  will  say,  "  I  know  what  it  is  to  give  up  my  rights 
for  another ;  for  I  had  a  struggle  once,  and  did  it."     Have  you  ever 


SUFFERING,   THE  MEASURE  OF  WORTH.  335 

seen  a  miser,  in  some  unexpected  moment,  betrayed  into  a  charity  ? 
He  is  amazed  at  himself  after  it  is  over ;  and  he  recounts  the  fact 
again  and  again.  "  Give  ?"  he  says ;  "  yes,  I  did  give  once.  I  know 
what  it  is  to  give."  He  tells  it  scores  and  scores  of  times.  It  is,  like 
an  old  man's  worn-out  stories,  repeated,  repeated,  repeated.  So  that 
that  which  ought  to  be  the  easy  carriage  of  a  noble  man's  nature,  be- 
comes, after  all,  the  special,  exceptional,  and  much-praised  single  in- 
stance. 

If  Hook  upon  my  fellow-men  as  being  all  that  they  ought  to  be; 
if  I  consider  myself  at  liberty  to  measure  them  simply  by  their  moral 
development,  by  their  intellectual  development,  or  by  their  social  de- 
velopment ;  if  I  feel  myself  at  liberty  to  look  upon  them  and  classify 
them  in  this  sphere,  I  go  on  the  theory  that  we  are  all  scrambling  for 
development,  that  every  body  is  trying  to  develojD  himself,  and  that 
the  law  of  development  is,  that  in  the  straggle  of  life  the  weak  must 
go  under  to  the  strong.  And  so  men  go  through  life,  saying,  "I  Avili 
take  care  of  myself,  and  you  must  take  care  of  yourself;"  and  they 
feel  that  they  have  a  right  to  go  through  life  thus. 

Now,  can  any  man  that  has  the  first  element  of  Christ  ..  spirit  in 
him  so  look  upon  his  fellow-men?  Can  any  one  who  has  drimk  deeply 
of  the  spirit  of  the  Master,  refuse  to  accept  the  injunction  of  the 
apostle,  "  We  that  are  strong  ought  to  bear  the  infirmities  of  the 
weak"  ?  It  is  as  if  a  strong  swimmer  should  turn  back  and  lend  a 
helping  hand  to  buoy  up  and  lift  across  the  flood  one  that  was  weaker 
or  less  able  to  swim  than  himself.  We  have  no  right  to  disregard, 
much  less  to  hinder,  the  welfare  of  any  human  being.  Have  I  a  right 
to  go  tramp,  tramp,  tramp,  according  to  the  law  of  my  physical 
strength,  among  little  children  ?  If  I  am  where  they  are,  I  am  boiind 
so  to  walk  as  not  to  tread  upon  or  injure  them.  If  I  have  had  better 
privileges  than  others,  and  have  come  to  conclusions  which  they  can 
not  understand,  have  I  a  right  to  scatter  those  skeptical  notions 
through  society  ?  I  say  skeptical  notions,  because  advanced  notions 
are  to  those  whose  notions  are  behind  them  always  skeptical.  Has  a 
man  a  right  to  take  any  theory  of  life  which  is  in  advance  of  the  theories 
of  his  time,  and  which  may  be  a  safe  theory  five  hundred  years  hence, 
and  promulgate  it  among  men  who  are  not  sufiiciently  developed  to 
comprehend  it?  A  man  is  bound  to  hold  his  knowledge,  his  con- 
science, his  affections,  his  pleasures,  his  j)rivileges,  his  influence,  sub- 
ject to  this  great  law,  "  Christ  died  for  men,  and  I  must  live  for  men, 
and  restrain  my  power,  and  forego  my  rights,  even  for  their,  sake. 
There  is  nothing  on  earth  that  ought  to  be  so  sacred  to  7ue.  Myself 
should  not  be  more  sacred  to  myself  than  is  that  human  being  for 
whom  Christ  died."  But  how  paganism  yet  lingers  in  us  !  How  we 
love  to  lash  with  our  tongue  men  that  do  not  believe  as  we  do !  We 
lore  to  specify  different  gi-adations  and  classifications  of  men,  and  in- 


336  SUFFERINO,  THE  MEASURE  OF  WORTH. 

dulgein  contemptuous  remarks  concerning  them  !  And  yet,  there  is 
not  a  man  born  in  Ireland,  or  in  France,  or  in  Italy,  or  among  the 
Cossacks,  or  in  Ethiopia,  or  in  Caffraria,  on  Avhora  God  does  not  look 
every  day,  and  say,  "  I  died  for  him."  There  is  not  a  human  being 
who  has  not  stamped  on  him  the  image  and  superscription  of  the 
dying  God.  And  what  right  have  I  to  impugn  him,  or  treat  him  with 
contempt  ?  What  right  have  I  to  walk  over  him  in  my  liberty,  real 
or  fancied  ?  What  right  have  I  to  tyrannize  by  my  superiority  over 
any  man  for  whom  Christ  died  ?  Any  estimate  of  man  Avhich  is 
founded  upon  this  fact  that  Christ  died  for  him,  will  destroy  at  the 
very  root  the  practice  and  the  priuciiDle  of  using  him,  in  the  offensive 
sense  of  the  term  use. 

We  have  a  right  to  employ  men,  of  course.  All  the  relations  of 
life  are  based  on  industrial  inter-employraents — and  I  do  not  object  to 
that;  but  there  is  a  habit  which  prevails  in  society  of  thinking  that  a 
man  has  a  right  to  just  so  much  of  his  fellow-men  as  he  is  able  to  ex- 
tiTict  from  them.  A  man  says,  "  Look  out !  I  have  the  power  of  com- 
binations. Here  is  this  great  community.  They  are  mere  w^itlings.  I 
will  lay  my  plans,  and  they  will  suck  out  that  man's  substance, 
and  that  man's.  I  will  do  it  in  legitimate  ways ;  and  so  long  as 
the  ways  are  legitimate,  it  does  not  matter  to  me  what  becomes 
of  the  men  themselves.  They  are  poor  sticks,  and  if  I  destroy 
five  hundred  of  them  in  getting  rich,  I  can  not  help  it.  I  am  strong 
enough;  and  if  I  do  not  do  any  thing  that  is  wrong,  I  have  a  perfect 
right  to  use  tliem."  A  man  employs  a  hundred  laborers  in  his  factory, 
and  instead  of  using  his  superior  skill  and  talents,  he  keeps  them  down 
to  the  lowest  condition,  in  order  that  he  may  make  the  greatest  use  of 
them.  lie  does  not  recognize  any  brotherhood  as  existing  between 
him  and  them,  or  any  obligation  on  his  part  to  nourish  them  out  of 
his  abundance.  But  that  great  law  of  fellowship  which  knits  every 
man  to  every  other  man  on  the  globe  says  not  Only,  "  Thou  art  his 
brother,"  but, "  Thou  art  responsible  for  his  weal  as  well  as  thine  own. 
Thou  shalt  not  in  any  wise  harm  him,  or  suffer  him  to  be  harmed  by 
ar.y  cause  which  thou  canst  restrain — certainly  not  by  any  plans  of 
thine  own.  Thou  shalt  look  upon  every  human  being  as  a  part  of 
thyself,  and  as  a  part  of  thy  God." 

Would  it  not  stop  a  great  many  operations  of  society  if  this  law 
should  become  a  part  of  orthodoxy  ?  Now,  a  man  may  fleece  a 
hundred  men  during  the  week,  and  wipe  his  mouth,  and  take  the  com- 
munign  on  Sunday,  and  nobody  thinks  that  there  is  any  violation  of 
good-fellowship  or  of  orthodoxy.  A  man  applies  for  admission  into 
the  church,  and  he  is  examined.  The  question  is  asked  him,  "  Do  you 
believe  in  the  Trinity  ?"  He  says,  "  Well,  it  is  so  vast  a  subject  that  I 
have  had  my  mind  staggered  in  the  contemplation  of  it,  and  I  really  do 
not  understand  God."    "  Do  not  understand  him  !"  exclaim  the  com 


SUFFERING,  THE  MEASURE  OF  WORTH.  337 

mittee.  "Brethren,  this  thing  must  be  looked  into.  It  is  a  fatal  de- 
fection. If  he  is  loose  there,  he  is  loose  all  the  way  through.  You 
must  be  held  over  to  another  communion,  that  we  may  have  time  to 
examine  you  further.  "Wliat !  do  not  believe  in  the  fundamental  doc- 
trine of  the  Trinity  and  Godliead  !" 

Let  the  next  candidate  come  up.  He  has  lived  in  the  Catechism.  He 
believes  it  from  beginning  to  end.  He  would  believe  in  a  hundred  gods 
if  it  were  necessary  !  He  believes  in  total  depravity ;  he  believes  in  the 
doctrine  of  the  Holy  Spirit ;  he  believes  in  baptism  ;  he  believes  in  all 
the  ordinances ;  he  believes  in  any  thing  that  you  want  him  to  believe 
in — and  he  seems  to  wait  for  more !  He  goes  into  the  church  ;  and  people 
say, "  Ah  !  that  is  the  kind  of  confession.  I  like  a  man  that  is  really 
well-informed,  and  that  acquits  himself  well."  And  that  man  goes 
to-morrow,  and  lays  his  plans,  knowing  that  they  will  run  down  this 
poor  widow's  estate ;  knowing  that  they  will  ruin  a  dozen  young  men 
who  are  struggling  on  the  threshold  of  life  for  the  liberty  to  get 
food.  He  goes  as  an  elephant  would  go  through  a  foundling  hospital, 
never  looking  whei'e  he  steps,  and  witliout  any  consciousness  that  he  is 
bound  to  give  any  heed  to  the  infantile  creatures  among  which  he 
stalks.  He  crushes  one  here  and  another  there,  saying,  "  I  must  take 
care  of  I^umber  One ;  and  if  you  would  do  as  I  do,  you  would  get  along 
all  riglit."  He  has  no  sense  of  the  obligations  of  huuuinity.  He  would 
not  put  a  pin  into  a  man — not  at  all ;  but  he  would  put  a  jofe?*  into 
him,  and  pierce  him  to  the  heart.  He  would  not  put  his  hands  into  a 
man's  pocket ;  but  he  would  take  stocks  in  the  street,  and  influence 
them  in  such  a  way  as  to  destroy  five  hundred  men,  without  even 
crying,  "  Stand  from  under !"  He  goes  through  life  making  his 
commercial  power  the  means  of  tripping  men  up  to  their  ruin. 

Such  men  are  not  producers— they  are  confusers.  They  are  not 
men  who  are  working  in  society  to  increase  embodied  thought  or 
skill.  They  are  not  men  who  are  building  up  the  community  in  any 
way.  They  are  men  that  use  men.  "In  allowable  ways,"  it  is  said. 
Allowable?  Yes,  so  far  as  cold  law  is  concerned;  but  the  man  that 
hugs  the  law  hugs  damnation !  The  law  ?  Do  you  suppose  that  the 
law  can  ever  be  enough  to  measure  honor  ?  Can  it  ever  be  more 
than  enough  to  mark  its  coarse  features  ?  A  man  that  does  not  live 
higher  than  the  law,  a  man  that  has  not  more  truth,  more  honesty, 
more  purity,  than  the  law  requires,  is  scarcely  fit  to  be  ranked  among 
our  fellow-men.  And  shall  a  man,  all  his  life  long,  in  the  sj^irit  and 
temper  of  his  mind,  be  as  a  vintner  who  plucks  grapes  that  he  may 
crush  them  and  extract  the  wine  and  put  it  in  his  cellar  ?  Shall  a 
man  pluck  his  fellow-men,  and  squeeze  their  blood  out  of  their  veins 
that  he  may  make  his  own  prosperity?  There  are  such  men,  who  be- 
lieve in  the  Trinity,  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  in  the  church,  in  baptism,  ia 
th^  Lord's  Supper,  in  every  thing  that  they  can  think  of,  and  in  every 


338       SUFFERING,   THE  MEASURE  OF  WORTH, 

thing  that  they  ever  heard  about,  pretty  much,  except  that  Christ  died 
for  sinners,  and  that  sinners  are  unspeakably  precious  because  Christ 
died  for  them.  Woe  be  to  that  inhumanity  which  nestles  in  the  heart 
of  orthodoxy !  If  a  man  does  not  love  his  brother,  do  you  believe 
that  he  loves  God  ?    I  do  not. 

This  is  one  of  the  most  precious  of  doctrines  to  those  that  look  and 
long  for  a  better  period  of  the  world.  It  was  almost  the  only  thing 
that  we  could  urge  when  slavery  rent  our  land ;  when  it  was  habit- 
ually told  us  that  the  slave  was  not  a  man — at  any  rate,  that  he  was 
so  low  that  the  only  condition  in  which  he  could  profitably  exist 
was  this  condition  of  circumscription.  Because  he  was  so  low,  he 
must  not  learn  to  read.  Because  he  was  so  low,  he  must  not  learn 
the  sacredness  of  marriage.  Because  he  was  so  low,  he  must  not  learn 
to  own  or  be  permitted  to  control  property.  Because  he  was  so  low, 
the  power  of  locomotion  was  taken  from  him.  Because  he  was  so  low, 
he  was  stripped  of  every  higher  function.  And  in  order  to  make  their 
paganism  more  hideous,  men  enshrined  it  in  the  statute-books  of  the 
nation,  that  the  slave  was  a  creature  that  had  no  rights  ;  that  he  was 
a  chattel !  And  against  this  nefarious  doctrine  what  had  we  to  oppose  ? 
Here  were  these  men  of  different  hair,  and  different  features,  and  a 
different  colored  skin,  and  of  a  low  degree  of  civilization ;  and  we  had 
but  this  to  oppose  to  the  efforts  of  men  to  keep  them  in  a  state  of  de- 
gradation— "  Christ  died  for  every  one  of  them."  To  every  old  mother 
nurse  that  prayed  and  wept  for  her  scattered  family;  to  every  old 
gray-haired  saint  that  trusted  m  Christ ;  to  every  young  man  or 
maiden  in  anguish  that  looked  up  and  cried,  "  Lord  remember,  me," 
the  only  argument  we  could  give  was,  "  Christ  died  for  you."  The 
single  strand  that  held  against  the  storms  of  avarice,  and  against  the 
fire  of  lurid  lusts,  was  the  single  argument,  "  For  these  Christ  died." 
And  that  held  ;  and  the  most  wonderful  change  toward  regeneration 
that  the  world  ever  saw  has  taken  place,  I  think,  by  the  simple  opera- 
tion of  the  great  law,  "  A  man  for  whom  Christ  died  is  of  unspeakable 
value." 

And  what  have  we  now  for  the  weak  races  ?  I  see  how  commerce 
is  extending,  and  how  open  communication  is  bringing  all  the  coun- 
tries of  the  world  together.  I  see  how  this  land  is  going  to  be  the 
battle-field  of  the  world  in  respect  to  these  great  oppressions.  I  per- 
ceive that  the  weaker  races  are  coming  among  us ;  as,  for  instance, 
the  hordes  of  Chinamen  that  are  swarming  our  western  borders.  1 
perceive  that  we  are  to  have  here  the  uncultivated  of  every  nation  on 
the  globe.  And  I  perceive  that  there  are  men  of  a  hard  heart  and  an 
iron-shod  foot,  who  are  preparing  to  tread  these  people  down,  and 
deny  them  their  rights.  And  I  take  my  stand  by  the  side  of  every 
weak  creature,  whatever  his  nationality  may  be,  and  I  say,  "  For  him 
Christ  died."     Take  him ;  respect  him ;  educate  him.     Let  him  have 


SUFFERING,   THE  MEASURE  OF  WOBTE.  339 

a  clmnce.  Let  no  man  despoil  liira.  Keep  the  vulture  from  him. 
Bend  down  arrogant  pride,  and  let  no  combination  of  men  tyrannize 
over  him.  And  the  weaker  he  is,  the  more  stand  off.  Chi-ist  died  for 
him.  He  is  the  babe  of  providence.  He  is  the  infant  of  ages.  Give 
men  at  the  bottom  a  chance  to  come  up.  Shall  the  world  forever  roll 
with  the  same  disastrous  experiments?  Shall  the  strong  be  made 
stronger  by  grinding  the  weak,  and  pouring  out  their  blood?  When 
shall  we  learn  that  while  nature  makes  the  weak  suffer  for  the  strong, 
grace  and  God  reverse  it,  and  make  it  the  duty  of  the  strong,  to  suffer 
for  the  weak  ?  God,  the  highest,  bowed  down  his  head,  and  came 
upon  the  earth,  and  suffered  for  the  weakest  and  the  worst.  There 
is  the  law  of  heaven  ;  the  law  of  the  ages  ;  the  law  of  the  universe. 

Clu-istian  brethren,  we  must  arm  ourselves  betimes.  The  seeds  of 
a  better  public  sentiment  must  be  sown. 

Then  let  no  man  be  discouraged  because  he  is  laboring  in  humble 
circumstances ;  because  he  is  laboring  witli  a  very  much  neglected 
class ;  because  he  spends  a  great  many  precious  hours  on  most  un- 
promising materials.  There  is  no  material  in  this  world  that  is  un- 
promising. The  fundamental  value  of  human  life  is  such  that  you  can 
not  pick  amiss.  For,  though  some  will  disclose  what  you  do  in  this 
world  quicker  than  others,  yet  there  is  no  one  toward  whom  you  can 
show  the  spirit  of  Christian  brotherhood  and  fidelity,  that  you  will 
not  meet  by  and  by,  where  you  will  see  that  you  have  worked  better 
than  you  knew. 

I  have  heard  of  somnambulists  that  rose  in  the  night  and  sat  them- 
selves down  at  their  easel,  and  painted  with  that  mystic  fidelity  and 
skill  which  belongs  to  abnormal,  or  rather  unknown,  conditions  of 
power.  And  when  the  morning  light  came,  they  rose  and  looked 
upon  their  easel  and  said,  "  Who  hath  wrought  this  ?"  It  was  their 
own  work  in  the  hours  of  the  unknowing  night ;  and  in  the  morning 
they  beheld  it  and  marveled. 

My  dear  brethren,  you  are  somnambulists,  walking  in  this  dark- 
some vale  ;  and  you,  by  every  touch  that  you  put  upon  the  poor  and 
needy  and  weak,  are  working  out  a  portrait ;  and  when  the  bright 
morning  of  the  resurrection  comes,  you  will  be  struck  with  amaze- 
ment, and  will  say,  "  Who  hath  wrought  this  ?"  And  with  ineffable 
joy  Christ  shall  say,  ''This  is  your  art,  taught  of  me,  copied  from  my 
love,  inspired  by  my  fidelity ;  and  inasmuch  ye  have  done  it  unto  one 
of  the  least  of  these,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me."  Every  single  tear, 
every  single  prayer,  every  single  act  of  fidelity  which  you  have  be- 
stowed upon  the  weak  and  the  poor,  you  will  see  rising  and  maldng 
the  character  of  Christ  and  the  glory  of  God  more  eminent;  and  God 
will  say,  "  Ye  did  it  unto  me." 

Work  on;  be  patient;  be  believing ;  hope;  hope  to  the  em?  y  and 
then  go  to  your  reward  ! 


340  suFFLEnrc,  the  measure  of  worth. 

Pr.ATER    BEFOEE    THE    SER3I0X. 

We  thank  thee  that  once  more  v.e  are  gathered  together  in  this  place — a  place  endeared  to  ns 
by  the  memory  of  ten  thousand  mercies.  Indeed  thou  hast  consecrated  this  temple,  not  by  the 
laying  on  of  hands,  nor  by  the  sprinkling  of  water,  but  by  tears  :  by  joys  ;  by  burdens  borne  up 
and  removed ;  by  sins,  that  rose  against  us  ynfh.  threatening,  forgiven  and  taken  away,  so  that 
they  bear  no  more  testimony  against  us;  by  hope  and  by  ii/sriration:  by  love,  by  joy, 
and  by  triumph;  by  the  soul's  experience  oft  and  oft  ^ene^^ed.  Thou  hast  made  this  place 
sacred  in  all  its  associations.  We  thank  thee  that  within  these  consecrated  walls  thou  art  near 
to  us  who  are  here,  as  the  God  of  all  benefaction.  How  often  have  we  come  hither  drooping, 
as  if  the  Sabbath  was  no  rest  to  us  ;  as  if  the  sanctuary  had  no  message  and  no  mercy  !  and  how 
often  have  we  gone  away  wondering  that  ever  we  doubted  thy  beuefic'ence  !  How  often  have  we 
come  here  heart-heavy,  and  been  able,  with  the  light  of  eternal  truth,  to  rise  above  the  besetmcnts 
and  temptations,  the  fears  and  doubts,  of  this  mortal  state  !  How  often  have  we  come  seeing 
that  our  burden  was  heavier  than  we  could  bear !  and  underneath  us  thou  hast  put  the  arms  of 
thy  strength  ;  and  all  our  burdens  have  seemed  lifted  away.  Or,  we  have  had  strength  given  ns 
by  the  Mightiest :  and  we  have  here  learned  those  higher  truths,  and  stood  in  those  supei'eminent 
places,  from  which  we  have  beheld  the  earth  low-lying  beneath  us,  and  the  heavenly  home  above, 
and  have  received  into  our  inward  life  something  of  tlie  food  and  of  the  sacredncssof  thy  life. 

O  Lord  our  God  !  we  thank  tliee  for  all  this  wealth  :  for  all  this  strengtli :  for  all  this  victo- 
rious energy  :  for  faith,  for  hope,  and  for  jcy.  And  why  should  Ave  doubt  thee  now  ?  Why  should 
we  again  require  sight  ?  Oh  !  grant  that  at  last  our  faith,  springing  from  so  much  in  the  past,  may 
shine  steadlastly.  May  we  know  in  whom  we  have  trusted.  W  e  have  committed  our  souls  to 
thy  care  and  keeping :  and  we  will  trust  thee,  living  or  dying. 

Grant  that  likewise  we  may  trust  to  thee  our  secular  affairs.  If  we  are  burdened,  may  w« 
trust  God.  If  we  are  threatened  with  trouble,  in  the  face  of  it  may  we  look  up  and  trust  thee. 
If  thou  art  walking  toward  us  on  the  stormy  sea  at  night,  may  we  not  be  afraid  and  cry  out,  as  if 
it  were  a  spirit.  If  we  are  overtaken  by  the  tempest,  and  thou  seemest  asleep,  still  may  we 
remember  thy  waking,  and  trust.  If  great  sorrows  refuse  to  unclasp,  and  like  poison  vines  have 
thrust  their  briers  and  their  thorns*into  the  flesh,  still  may  we  look  up  to  the  crowned  One,  who 
for  us  bore  thorns,  and  who  hath  taught  all  his  followers  to  bear  them.  May  we  not  be  afraid. 
May  we  not  be  discouraged,  ^lay  we  not  be  easily  cast  away  from  our  faith.  May  we  not  be  led 
to  doubt  men,  as  if  all  mankind  were  treacherous.  May  we  not  be  led  to  slander  or  inveigh 
against  our  fellow-men.  May  we  not  be  led  to  doubt  thine  existence  and  thy  government.  Over 
all  the  works  of  thine  hand,  thy  great  glory  shines.  May  we  behold,  also,  the  light  of  thy  face  in 
Christ  Jesus.  Oh  !  give  to  us  this  gentle,  confiding  love  and  trust— a  trust  that  nothing  can  take 
away  from  us  ;  that  the  winds  can  not  blow  away  ;  that  the  frosts  can  not  destroy :  that  the  fer- 
vor of  summer  heat  can  not  deprive  us  of.  Under  all  circumstances,  may  we  put  our  soul's  trust 
in  thee,  and  abide  sure  in  thee.  Though  the  earth  should  perish,  though  the  mountains  should  be 
cast  into  the  sea,  may  we  still  maintain  our  firm  hold  upon  thee. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  to  every  one  in  thy  presence  this  morning,  such  mercy  as  each  One 
needs — thou  being  Judge.  Keep  back  from  these  thy  servants  honors  which  they  ask  of  thee,  if 
they  are  hurtful.  Give  to  them,  and  press  upon  them,  things  which  they  would  avoid,  if  it  is 
needful  that  they  should  have  them.  May  they  that  ask  sweet  taste  bitter,  and  may  those 
that  taste  bitterness  find  sweetness,  according  as  thou  seest  that  they  need. 

We  pray  that  every  one  may  be  able,  this  morning,  to  hold  up  hands  of  innocency  and  hearts 
of  simplicity,  with  childlike  trust.  So,  Lord,  do  what  is  best  in  thine  own  sight ;  and  whilst 
thou  art  domg  it,  may  we  not  be  surprised.  May  we  cease  at  last  to  think  that  thou  dost  always 
walk  in  sunshine.  Art  thou  not  God  of  the  storm  as  well  ?  Is  not  darkness  thine  as  much  as 
light  ?  night  as  well  as  day  ?  Art  thou  not  throned  in  clouds  ?  Though  darkness  be  round  about 
thee,  justice  and  judgment  are  the  habitations  of  thy  throne.  Grant  "that  we  may  have  this  trust 
by  which  we  shall  be  able  to  overcome  the  suggestions  of  fear,  and  all  temptations  of  desire. 
And  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  give  to  every  one  of  thy  servants  strength  to  discharge  the  duty  that 
is  particularly  Incumbent  upon  him. 

Remember  any  that  are  strangers  in  our  midst.  And  if  there  are  any  that  are  homesick,  give 
them  such  a  sense  of  home  here — at  any  rate,  reveal  to  them  such  a  sense  of  that  blessed  home 
which  is  very  soon  to  be  revealed  to  us  all — that  they  shall  find  blessed  relief  and  remedy  to-day. 
Go  with  their  thoughts  who  think  far  away,  and  make  with  their  wishes  the  circuit  of  the  sea, 
and  the  traversing  of  the  land.  And  bless  everywhere  those  that  think  of  us  to-day,  or  of  whom 
we  think. 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  O  God  I  that  our  scattered  ones  everj'where,  may  be  daily  gathered  in 
our  arms  and  hearts,  and  brought  In  faith  to  thee.  May  this  communion  in  Christ  Jesus  grow 
more  precious,  more  appreciable,  as  we  go  on.  Though  we  live  away  from  one  another  on  earth, 
and  the  separations  seem  wider  and  wider,  oh !  that  there  might  be  that  blessed  faith  of  immortali- 
ty which  shall  prevent  separation  in  separation,  and  hold  us  together,  one  to  another  :  so  that 
age.  so  that  time,  so  that  sickness,  so  that  misunderstanding,  shall  not  take  one  of  us  away  from 
the  other. 

Oh  1  what  have  we  on  earth  that  is  worth  confidence  and  love  ?  And  what  can  the  heart  that  is 
bereaved  of  these  have  in  all  the  world  beside  ?  Bind  us  one  to  another,  not  in  earthly  affection, 
but  in  sanctified  aflection.  Bind  us  to  our  children,  and  to  all  that  are  round  about  us,  by  the 
love  that  Christ  gave  to  us.  Sanctify  our  love,  that  it  may  take  hold  in  every  one  upon  immor 
tality.  We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  stir  us  to  more  and  more  activity  for  those  round 
about  us.  Everywhere  and  evermore  may  we  b'e  sowers  of  the  seed.  May  we  sow  even  by 
the  wayside,  if  peradventure  some  seed  shall  sprout.  May  we  sow  on  stony  ground,  and  among 
thOHiS,  and  more  abundantly  upon  good  ground.  Grant  that  an  abundant  harvest  may  at  last  be 
reaped  to  the  honor  of  God,  and  to  the  joy  of  our  souls. 

We  pray  that  thou  wUt  bless  the  young.  Sanctify  their  youth.  Oh  1  for  an  honor  unimpeach- 
able. Oh  1  for  purity  and  unsullied  passion.  Oh  !  for  trust  in  thy  truth.  Oh  !  for  aspirations  1  Oh  ! 
for  manhood,  rather  than  for  pleasure.  Grant  that  all  the  youth  among  us  may  grow  up  uncontami- 
nated.  Eescue  any  that  are  perOed.  Bring  back  any  that  have  been  carried  by  the  wolf  from  the 
fold.  Destroy  their  adversary,  and  save  them.  O  Shepherd  of  the  flock  1  spare  the  lambs,  and  let 
nothing  rend  them. 

Oh  !  grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  thy  cause  everywhere  may  prosper.  May  education  flourish 
amona:  our  people.  May  humanity  and  justice  thrive.  May  all  schools  and  colleges  and  churches, 
and  all  institutions  of  civilization,  be  remembered  evermore.  May  all  the  fountains  of  influence 
be  sanctified,  and  this  whole  world  at  last  be  gathered  in. 

We  ask  it  for  Christ's  sake.    Amen. 


xxn. 
The  Victory  of  Hope  iisr  Soreow. 


VICTORY  OF  HOPE  IN  SORROW. 


SUNDAY   MORNING,    FEBRUARY    7,   1869. 


nrvocATioN. 


VoTTCHSAFE  thy  presence  to  us,  our  heavenly  Father.  May  we  find  thee  ;  and  find- 
ing thee,  find  ourselves.  Grant  unto  us  that  silent  influence  by  which  every 
dormant  afiection  shall  be  awakened.  Cleanse  our  understanding,  that  we  may 
have  discernment  in  spiritual  truth.  Arouse  our  affections,  that  we  may  learn  to 
love,  and  to  praise  thee  whom  we  love.  And  grant  that  in  all  the  services  of  the 
sanctuary,  and  in  the  services  of  the  day  wherever  we  may  be,  our  hearts  may  take 
joy  in  thee,  and  thy  blessings  may  fall  richly  upon  us  ;  which  we  ask  for  Christ's 
sake.  Amen. 


"  That  ye  sorrow  not,  even  as  others  which  have  no  hope." — 1  Thess.  iv.  13. 

One  of  the  lessons  which  our  Master  enforced  with  great  emphasis 
was,  that  there  should  be  a  marked  contrast  between  his  disciples  and 
worldly  men.  Indeed,  it  may  be  said,  as  characteristic  of  Christian- 
ity, that  it  undertakes  to  reform  the  world,  not  by  a  systematic  pre- 
sentation of  ideas,  but  by  organizing  men  in  their  living  consciousness 
into  active  forces ;  and  the  vital  instrument  which  God  employs  in  the 
transformation  of  the  world  is  a  living,  flaming  soul-power.  A  Chris- 
tian has  knowledge,  inspiration,  promises,divine  power ;  he  is  armed 
for  every  emergency  ;  and  it  is  expected  that  he  will  evince  this  by  the 
superior  results  which  these  influences  work  out.  It  is  life  that  is  to 
demonstrate  the  true,  salient  revelations  of  Christianity. 

If  a  Christian  difiers  in  no  important  respect  from  a  man  without 
Christian  faith,  wherein  is  he  better?  A  name  is  nothing.  A  dead 
religion  is  always  a  superstition,  no  matter  how  true  its  abstract  truths 
are.  Therefore  our  Master  insisted  that  his  disciples  should  mark 
their  adhesion  to  him  by  a  nobler  way  of  living  than  others  had  in 
every  respect.  They  were  to  find  a  better  use  for  all  their  faculties 
than  other  men  had  found.  They  were  to  meet  the  experiences  of  hu- 
man life  in  a  nobler  way  than  men  ordinarily  did.  They  were  not  to 
be  saved  from  the  casualties,  the  sufierings,  the  trials,  the  temptations, 
the  bereavements  of  men.  They  had  no  advantage  over  other  men  in 
these  regards.  But  they  were  expected  to  find  something  in  them, 
Lbsbon:  2  Cor.  iv.  15-18,  v.  1-11.  Htmks  (Plymouth  Collection) :  Nos.  119,  905, 1272. 


342  VICTOBY  OF  HOPE  ly  SORROW. 

under  the  stirring  influence  of  God's  Spirit,  tbnt  should  enable  them  to 
endure  these  various  experiences  of  life  in  a  way  that  common  men 
could  not.  They  were  to  do  it  so  uniformly,  and  to  do  it  so  largely, 
that  men,  looking  on  them,  should  see  that  there  was  a  truth  in  reli- 
gion from  the  way  in  which  Christian  people  carried  themselves. 
They  were  to  exhibit  a  higher  ideal  of  love.  They  were  to  accept 
misfortunes  and  violent  assaults  in  a  more  heroic  temper  than  do  com- 
mon men.  They  were  to  hold  or  to  lose  riches  as  other  men  do  not. 
They  were  to  contemplate  life,  and  to  regard  death  with  a  difference 
most  marked  from  that  which  prevails  in  the  uninstructed  and  irreli- 
gious world.  They  were  to  part  from  their  friends  as  other  people  can 
not.  It  was  this  exalted  power  to  do  extraordinary  things,  and  to  be 
strong  at  those  points  where  human  nature  is  ordinarily  weak — it  was 
this  power,  derived  from  God's  presence,  that  was  to  mark  them  as 
Christians. 

"  What  do  ye  more  than  others  ?"  was  Christ's  test  question.  "  If 
ye  love  them  that  love  you,  do  not  the  publicans  so  ?"  The  worst  men 
in  the  community  do  as  much  as  that.  What  advantage  have  you 
over  bad  men,  if  your  goodness  does  not  give  you  any  suj^erior  power? 
"  If  ye  salute  those  that  salute  you,  what  do  ye  more  than  others  ?" 
Every  body  does  that.  It  does  not  need  that  a  man  should  make  a  pro- 
fession of  religion  in  order  to  do  things  that  he  can  do  just  as  well 
without  professing  religion  as  with.  "  Te  are  the  salt  of  the  earth." 
"  Te  are  the  light  of  the  world."  "  Except  thy  righteousness  shall  ex- 
ceed the  righteousness  of  the  scribes  and  Pharisees  " — which  were 
then  the  best  specimens  of  moral-living  men  that  there  were — "  ye 
shall  not  enter  the  kingdom  of  God." 

It  is  in  the  spirit  of  this  teaching  that  the  apostle  exhorts  the  Thes- 
salonians,  who  seem  to  have  been  passing  through  a  special  trial  of 
bereavement  in  the  loss  of  friends.  He  exhorts  them,  in  their  grief  for 
departed  ones,  to  have  a  victory  such  as  does  not  come  to  common  men. 
He  says,  "I  would  not  have  you  sorrow  as  others  who  have  no  hope." 
There  is  to  be  a  difference  between  death  in  the  household  of  a  Chris- 
tian man,  and  death  in  the  household  of  an  unconverted  and  unchris- 
tian man.  You  are  liable  to  lose  the  child  from  your  arms,  the  com- 
panion from  your  side,  the  friend  from  your  daily  converse,  as  much 
as  others.  The  difference  between  you  and  others  is  to  be  the  way  in 
which  you  take  this  loss.  K  you  bow  down  your  head  as  a  bulrush, 
if  you  are  overborne  as  other  men  are,  what  is  the  use  of  your  Chris- 
tian hope  ?  Why  are  you  in  these  respects  any  better  than  any  body  else  ? 

K  in  any  thing  one  might  be  left  to  his  own  way ;  if  there  is  any 
place  where  the  searching  commands  of  God's  law  might  for  a  mo- 
ment be  staid,  we  should  suppose  that  it  would  be  in  the  sorrows 
which  flood  the  soul  at  separation  by  death  from  those  greatly  be- 


VICTORY  OF  HOPE  m  SORROW  343 

loved  by  us ;  but  no,  even  here  we  are  to  be  Christians.  There  is  no 
single  solitary  nook  in  the  whole  range  of  life  into  which  we  can  re- 
treat, and  say, "I  have  a  right  here,  at  least, to  be  selfish."  Even 
grief  may  not  be  selfish.  The  whole  lesson  of  the  scene  at  Bethany 
— Christ's  tarrying  when  he  heard  that  the  brother  was  sick;  the  sis- 
ters' anguish,  when  at  last,  too  late,  he  met  them — the  Saviour's  teach- 
ing, was  to  impress  this  truth  upon  them,  upon  the  spectators, 
and  upon  the  disciples :  that  God  must  be  glorified  in  the  suflfering 
and  in  the  death  of  all.  And  men  that  hope  in  Christ  Jesus  are 
bound,  not  simply  to  live  lives  pure  from  positive  transgression  ;  not 
simply  to  have  good  morals,  and  occasionally  a  flush  of  spiritual 
feeling ;  but  to  be  men  marked  and  set  apart  from  other  men,  and 
distinct  from  the  world,  not  by  the  cut  of  their  coat,  and  not  by  the 
absence  or  presence  of  flowers  and  feathers  and  various  ornaments  ; 
but  in  the  elevation  of  their  moral  nature ;  in  their  power ;  in 
their  greatness  of  soul.  And  if  there  are  these  inward  marks,  you 
need  no  outward  ones.  If  there  be  not  these  inward  distinctions,  all 
the  outward  ones  are  shams. 

1.  It  is  no  part  of  Christian  teaching  that  men  should  not  sorrow  ; 
but  it  is  a  part  of  Christian  teaching  that  men  should  not  sorrow  as 
others  who  have  no  hope.  Our  Master  himself  suffered,  and  indulged 
in  suffering.  He  hindered  not  himself  from  shedding  tears.  He 
sanctified  tears  by  his  example.  And  yet  it  is  said,  "  For  the  joy  that 
was  set  before  him,  he  endured."  He  suflTered  ;  but  his  very  suffer- 
ing stood  in  the  reflected  light  of  the  other  world.  It  was  not  the 
dark,  midnight  suflTering  that  has  no  star  upon  it — still  less  a  sun  : 
it  was  a  suffering  in  the  light  of  the  world  to  come  ;  and  a  very  dif- 
ferent thing  from  the  sordid,  selfish,  sodden  suffering  of  ordinary  men. 
The  apostles  gloried  in  the  fact  that  they  suffered.  It  was  a  part  of 
their  boast.  "If  we  suflTer  with  him,  we  shall  reign  with  him." 
"  Count  it  all  joy  when  ye  fall  into  divers  trials  and  temptations." 
The  very  argument  of  joy  was,  that  they  suffered — yea  plentifully. 
They  argued, "  If  we  do  not  suffer,  we  have  no  evidence  that  we  are 
children ;  because  whom  the  Lord  loves  he  chastens,  and  scourges 
every  son  whom  he  receives."  And  the  very  cross,  which  has  become 
the  symbol  of  Christianity  the  world  over,  is  the  symbol  of  suffering, 
and  of  odious  suffering  at  that. 

Suffering  is  itself  good,  if  it  arouses  in  men  their  divine  nature, 
rather  than  their  lower  human  nature.  Suffering  of  a  man's  aflfeo- 
tions  and  passions  is  salutary  and  wholesome ;  for  that  suffering 
evokes  and  brings  into  ascendency  and  power  his  moral  sentiments. 
We  are  populous.  Every  man  is  made  up,  as  it  were,  of  many 
men.  All  our  faculties  and  tendencies  maybe  considered  as  separate 
personalities.     And  that  which  is  of  the  earth,  earthy,  is  made  to 


344  VICTOR Y  OF  HOPE  IN  SORROW. 

Suffer,  in  order  that  that  which  is  of  the  heavens,  and  heavenly, 
may  rise  into  ascendency  and  power.  So  that  it  is  not  sinful  to 
suffer.  It  is  not  wicked  for  the  heart  to  ache.  It  is  not  wrong  to 
suffer  a  great  while.  It  is  not  wrong  to  have  linked,  continuous 
suffering.  But  it  is  to  be  suffering  in  the  light  of  joy.  It  is  to  be 
suffering  that  does  not  exclude  joy.  It  is  to  be  sorrow,  grief, 
bereavement,  that  is  full  of  radiant  points.  Suffering  is  allowable 
then. 

2.  Neither  is  it  the  teaching  of  Christ  that  the  affections  and  the 
relationships  of  men  are  trivial  and  unworthy  of  regard.  There  is 
no  doctrine  in  the  Bible  that  we  are  so  to  love  God,  and  so  to  antici- 
pate the  fellowship  of  that  nobler  society  which  awaits  us,  that  our 
earthly  affections  are  to  be  dwarfed.  Indeed,  we  have  no  guides  to 
go  by  except  these  earthly  affections ;  and  any  doctrine  that  teaches 
that  earthly  affections  have  no  value  here,  takes  away  the  script  by 
\vhich  we  are  to  read ;  takes  away  the  interpreting  symbol  and  model 
in  ourselves.  Who  could  know  what  justice  is  that  had  not  some 
sense  of  justice?  Who  coiald  know  what  purity  is  if  there  was  not 
given  to  him  some  strain  of  purity  ?  Who  would  know  love,  that  was 
not  obedient  to  love  ?  Who  could  interpret  the  angelic  host  and  the 
majesty  of  Jehovah  in  the  imagination,  if  there  was  not  in  himself 
something  that  was  an  interpreting  point  ?  To  say  that  the  human 
affections  are  nothing;  that  to  love  one  another  is  to  love  dust; 
that  we  are  to  love  as  if  we  loved  not,  in  the  unscrijDtural  and  lower 
sense  of  that  expression — to  say  this  is  to  destroy  the  potency,  the 
value  and  the  use  of  those  very  ordinances  of  the  household  and  of 
friendship  by  which  God  means  to  develop  us  into  a  spiritual  nature. 

Some  teach  that  we  are  to  let  all  the  relationships  of  life  seem  so 
little  in  comparison  with  Christ  that  it  will  make  no  difference  to  us 
whether  they  go  or  stay.  I  could  not  greatly  respect  such  piety  as  thjit. 
I  could  not  greatly  esteem  any  man's  love  to  me  to  whom  it  made  no 
difference  whether  I  was  present  or  absent.  I  could  not  greatly  value 
a  religion  which  made  love  a  mere  currency  good  for  this  world,  and 
good  for  nothing  else.  I  regard  the  spirit  of  Christianity  as  sancti- 
fying the  love  of  husband  and  wife,  of  parent  and  child,  of  brother 
and  sister,  of  friend  and  friend ;  as  making  them  intrinsically  valuable, 
as  stamping  on  them  all  those  marks  of  immortality  which  make  it 
sure  that  if  we  love  right  here  we  shall  love  forever.  Away  with 
any  such  conception  as  makes  a  Christian,  flying  by  faith  through  a 
great  expanse,  conscious  of  caring  nothing  for  father  or  mother,  or 
husband  or  wife,  and  dropping  them  in  death  just  as  carelessly  as  the 
eagle,  flying  through  the  air,  lets  loose  a  wing-feather  and  drops  it, 
and  neither  seeks  it  again  nor  knows  that  it  loses   it,  but  flies  on  ! 


VICTORY  OF  HOPE  IN  SORROW.  345. 

Is  this  the  conception  of  Christian  love  ?  Is  a  soul  that  we  love 
worth  no  more  than  a  feather  ? 

It  may  be  very  true  that  in  the  external  ministrations  and  relations 
of  our  earthly  intercourse  it  is  fruitful  of  minor  value ;  but  that  is 
only  an  argument  for  something  more  than  loving  in  the  flesh, 
and  from  the  flesh.  It  is  an  argument  for  loving  from  our  higher 
nature,  and  not  from  our  lower. 

It  is  the  very  tendency,  indeed,  of  Christian  truth  to  refine  the 
affections,  and  to  throw  the  weight  of  being  more  and  more  into  that 
part  of  our  nature  and  organization;  and  the  result  of  an  indwelling 
Christianity  in  the  world  has  been  to  make  the  family  richer,  to  make 
the  heart  relatively  stronger,  and  to  make  social  and  domestic  affec- 
tions bear  a  wider  sway,  and  constitute  a  greater  part  of  the  happi- 
ness of  human  life,  than  at  any  period  anterior  to  Christianity.  It  is 
a  part  of  the  business  of  Christianity  to  cultivate  the  heart  by  suffer- 
ing. It  was  not  possible  for  men  in  the  times  of  David  to  suffer  in 
bereavements  of  the  household  as  we  can  to-day ;  for  the  very  work 
of  Christianity  has  been  to  sharpen  the  nerve,  and  separate  its  fibres, 
and  make  it  more  susceptible  to  suffering  under  loss,  and  susceptible 
to  deeper  vibrations.  With  every  upward  possibility  of  strong  love, 
there  is  the  shadow  of  love — suffering ;  and  the  whole  play  of  Chris- 
tianity in  this  world  is  preparing  men  to  suffer. 

We  are  not,  then,  to  teach  any  doctrine  of  our  relationships  one 
to  another  which  undervalues  the  affections,  and  the  sufferings  which 
the  bereavements  of  the  affections  bring  upon  men. 

3.  Least  of  all  does  Christ  teach  us  the  stoical  doctrine  that  pain 
is  unworthy  of  manhood,  and  that  it  is  to  be  strangled ;  that  true 
manhood  requires  us  to  do  violence  to  the  strongest  feelings  of  our 
nature  ;  that  we  are  to  wither  them,  as  it  were,  sear  them,  siioil  them, 
beat  thehi  down,  treat  them  as  if  they  were  weeds,  not  only  to  be  cut 
off,  but  to  be  scotched  in  the  root  itself  Any  such  violence  as  that 
done  to  a  man's  affections  is  flying  in  the  face  of  God.  It  is  elabo- 
rately destroying  that  which  He  has  elaborately  created,  and  con- 
tinues to  create. 

There  is  no  precept,  and  still  less  example,  in  the  word  of  God,  foi 
any  such  treatment  as  this.  It  is  remarkable  that  in  a  book  that 
deals  so  much  with  the  details  of  human  life,  there  is  not  one 
solitary  precept  that  calls  upon  us  to  undervalue  a  single  faculty,  or  the 
suffering  of  a  single  faculty.  And  the  example  of  the  Master,  and  the 
example  of  his  apostles,  as  well  as  the  example,  subsequently,  of  holy 
men  in  every  generation,  has  taught  any  thing  but  the  stoical  doctrine. 
The  stoics  held  that  the  true  type  of  manhood  was  that  of  one  who 
had  so  bridled,  so  trained,  so  seared,  so  hardened  the  heart,  that  it 
was  like  the  inside  of  a  blacksmith's;  hand,  grown  thick  and  callous, 


346  VICTORY   OF  HOPE  IN  SORROW. 

BO  that  it  had  no  feeUng  in  it.  And  then,  when  a  man  came  to  that 
state  in  wliich  there  was  no  feeling  in  liis  heart,  it  was  supposed 
tliat  he  was  more  a  man.  The  absence  of  suffering  was  the  stoical 
idea  of  greatness  of  nature  ;  but  the  Christian  idea  is  the  great  power 
of  victory  in  suffering.  The  Christian  Avas  symbolized  by  God  in  the 
burning  bush — the  unconsumed  bush,  and  the  unconsumed  God. 
The  Christian  idea  of  human  nature  was  that  of  a  man  who,  inspired 
by  the  Holy  Ghost,  stood  in  the  midst  of  trial  and  danger  stronger 
and  happier  while  suffering. 

4.  Our  Master  did  require  that  we  should  place  our  griefs  or  our 
bereavements,  as  it  were,  up  in  the  air,  and  against  the  horizon  of  the 
great  Christian  truths  which  were  brought  to  light  in  him ;  nor  that 
we  sliould  ponder  them  in  their  relations  to  our  lower  convenience ; 
but  that  we  should  look  upon  our  suffering  and  our  sorrow  as  they 
are  surrounded  by  all  the  considerations  derivable  from  Christ's  life 
and  from  his  teachings  of  the  truth. 

Thei-e  is,  in  the  sharpest  bereavement,  then,  a  duti/  of  sorrow : 
not  merely  a  duty  of  bearing ;  not  merely  a  duty  of  refusing  to  be 
overborne ;  but  the  duty  of  victory  in  sorrow.  And  there  is  the 
precept  and  the  monition  issued  to  every  man,  I wonld  not  have  you 
sorroio  as  others  icho  have  no  hope.  There  is  this  duty  as  well  as 
privilege  to  our  bi'ethren,  to  the  world,  to  our  own  profession  of  truth, 
and  to  the  Saviour's  name. 

Let  us,  then,  look  at  some  of  the  particulars  that  come  under  this 
head  of  duty,  or  that  violate  it. 

First.  A  wanton  and  ungovernable  sorrow  is  a  violation  of  Cliris- 
tian  duty.  A  sorrow  that  will  not  be  comforted ;  a  sorrow  that 
dashes  away  consolation,  and  is  angry  at  it ;  a  sorrow  that  is  obsti- 
nate and  self-willed,  and  in  over-measure — that  is  atheistic;  that  is 
unchristian.  That  is,  it  acts  as  if  there  was  neither  a  God  nor  a 
Christ. 

There  is  a  great  difference,  of  course,  between  the  first  burst  of  sor- 
row which  has  mingled  with  it  much  of  uncontrollable  nervous  spasm, 
and  a  continuous  state  of  mind  like  this.  "We  are  to  bear  in  mind  that 
the  sorrows  which  come  to  us  in  bereavement  frequently  come  through 
long  passages  of  watching ;  come  through  appetites  that  are  already 
overspent ;  come  in  the  train  of  excitements  acuminated  and  intense. 
And  when  one  has  been  worn  out  physically,  I  do  not  believe  tliat 
the  gentle  and  the  gracious  God  finds  fiiult  because  there  is,  for  the 
first  moment,  the  overflowing,  the  uncontrollable  sweep  of  anguisli. 
Let  the  cloud  burst.  Let  its  deluge  descend.  That  wliich  I  take  ex- 
ception to  is,  that  one  should  set  himself  in  such  a  sorrow  as  tbit^ 
and  let  it  have,  not  merely  hours  and  days,  but  a  continual  flov, 
broad  and  deep  as  a  river.     That  is  wicked.     That  is  unchristian. 


VICTORY  OF  HOPE  IN  SORROW.  347 

When  one  through  watching  and  illness  and  prostration  has  had 
all  the  waves  pass  over  him ;  when  one  has  gone  through,  as  it  were, 
this  first  stage,  there  should  come  a  rebound  against  nature.  There 
should  he  something  in  every  one  who  has  a  living  faith  in  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  to  bring  him  back  from  this  outward  swee])  upon  a  re- 
fluent wave.  For,  in  such  suffering  as  this,  in  such  uncontrollable 
grief  as  this,  there  is  nothing  but  blindness.  There  is  nothing  here 
that  is  rational.  Tliere  is  nothiug  here  that  marks  faith  or  love  or 
trust.  There  is  nothing  in  such  suffering  as  this  that  shows  the  first 
trait  of  heroism.  It  is  not  even  childlike;  for  what  sorrow  is  there 
that  a  mother's  bosom  will  not  check  in  a  child?  But  there  are  some 
for  whom  all  God's  arms,  encircling  them,  are  no  defence.  All  the 
heart  of  Christ  is  not  a  place  of  refuge  for  them.  Their  own  grief 
is  more  to  them  than  the  universe. 

Secondly.  It  is  not  right  sorrow,  either,  that  seeks  every  aggrava- 
tion, to  make  misery  more  miserable.  There  are  those  that  pierce 
themselves.  They  seek  thorns  and  nettles.  They  employ  their 
memory  as  a  drag-net  to  bring  back  whatever  they  can  of  refuse  ex- 
periences, to  make  themselves  unhappy  withal.  They  weave  what- 
ever they  can  lay  their  hands  on  into  sackcloth.  There  comes  to  be 
a  kind  of  pride  of  suffering.  There  is  sometimes  a  vanity  of  suffer- 
ing as  Avell.  Persons  come  to  have  a  feeling  that  it  is  expected  of 
them  that  they  shall  suffer,  and  that  they  ought  to  suffer.  "  What 
will  be  thought  of  me  if  I  do  not  show  suffering?"  They  seem 
to  think  that  duty  to  the  dead  requires  that  they  should  suffer. 
They  seem  to  think  that  there  is  a  certain  self-respect  that  requires 
it.  They  are  afraid  of  men  ;  they  are  afraid  of  their  own  repute ;  and 
they  go  out  after  suffering. 

Where  this  does  not  take  place,  how  many  are  there  that  seem  to 
think  that  it  is  a  part  of  their  privilege,  at  any  rate,  to  recount  their 
silverings.  Ah !  how  blessed  are  they  that  know  how  to  shut  the 
door  of  the  past,  and  not  to  open  it  again — for  when  we  have  shut  it, 
we  usually  have  had  enough  of  the  hours  that  we  have  passed  through, 
and  we  had  better  write  upon  them,  "  Forgetting  the  things  that 
are  behind,"  unless  it  be  some  fairer  joy,  unless  it  be  some  better 
hope  that  we  fain  would  cherish.  The  mistakes,  the  sorrows,  the 
weaknesses,  the  temptations,  the  defeats,  of  past  hours — let  them 
go  with  the  hours.  Let  us  not  turn  back  to  find  them.  And  yet, 
how  many  are  there  that  lose  friends,  how  many  mothers  are  there 
out  of  whose  arms  has  gone  their  darling  child,  who  are  fond  of 
going  back  in  memory  to  pain  themselves  !  How  do  they  hang  over 
the  days  in  which  the  change  was  coming  on  !  How  they  call  back 
again  the  frowning  brows  of  those  hours  !  How  they  think  of  every 
spasm,  of  every  sigh  and  groan,  of  the  fair  dejiarted  one !  How  do 


348  VICTORY  OF  HOPE  IN  SORROW. 

"they  mourn  to  think  that  there  was  so  much  pain  and  suiFering !  Oh  I 
that  he  might  have  gone  with  a  sweeter  and  kinder  release.  So  all 
that  is  harrowing  is  brought  back  again,  gathered,  and  worn,  as  it 
were.  All  the  real  and  imagined  mistakes  that  have  been  made,  men 
are  fond  of  raking  up.  It  is  not  enough  that  the  dead  are  gone,  and 
can  not  come  back  again.  Oh  !  if  another  physician  had  been  called. 
Or,  if  he  had  been  called  betimes  !  Or  if,  when  the  symptoms  changed, 
he  had  been  sent  for !  O  fertile  folly  of  grief,  that  calls  up 
every  pain,  only  to  make  it  more  painful !  There  are  all  the  might 
have  heens.  And  then,  there  is  that  army  of  suggestions,  the  ifs. 
If  I  had  not  visited !  If  it  had  not  been  a  July  day  on  which  we 
took  the  ride  !  Oh!  had  we  been  at  home.  Or,  had  his  nurse  not 
been  visiting  her  sick  sister  !  If  he  had  had  timely  care  !  All  the 
might  have  heens  are  brought  forth,  and  arrayed,  to  make  it  more 
painful.  And  then  there  was  the  length  of  the  sickness.  Oh  !  it  was 
so  long  !  If  it  was  a  short  sickness,  then  it  was,  oh !  so  quick,  so  un- 
expected, so  sudden.  Or,  if  he  was  absent  from  home,  oh,  that  he 
had  not  been  among  strangers.  That  my  hand  had  been  permitted 
to  minister  to  his  wants  !  I  am  jealous  of  the  kindness  of  every  one 
that  solaced  and  succored  him.  Then,  it  was  youth  that  died  !  Oh  ! 
such  peculiar  relations  existed  in  this  case. 

So,  one  takes  the  garment  of  grief,  and  ravels  it  out,  thread  by 
thread,  and  winds  it,  as  it  were,  around  his  suffocating  neck.  Every 
single  thread  is  raveled  to  make  their  breath  harder,  their  pulse  slower, 
and  their  grief  more  shocking.  This  is  not  Christian.  I  do  not  say 
that  you  can  help  it  altogether;  for  who  can  control  the  flitting,  subtle, 
and  deceiving  imagination  ?  But  I  do  say  that  you  do  not  need  to 
nurse  and  nourish  it.  I  do  say  that  every  man  should  set  himself 
against  this  tendency  as  much  as  he  possibly  can.  It  should  be  re- 
strained from  the  first ;  and  it  should  be  corrected,  and  entirely 
amended,  as  soon  as  may  be.     For  there  is  no  health  in  that  directi(^n. 

It  did  not  require  that  you  should  be  baptized  in  order  to  knuckle 
down  under  trouble  like  other  men.  It  did  not  need  that  you  should 
publicly  consecrate  yourself  to  a  life  of  holiness,  in  order  that  you 
might  suffer  just  like  other  men.  You  should  suffer  as  Christians, 
and  as  those  that  are  not  without  hope.  For  a  while,  worldly  men, 
losing  their  friends,  may  hold  their  heads  downward,  and  their  eyes 
prone  to  the  ground ;  but  what  business  hast  thou — thou,  whose  prayers 
seek  the  morning  light ;  thou  whose  faith  carries  thee  higher  than  the 
eagle's  flight ;  thou  that  hast  sat  beneath  the  shadow  of  his  wings, 
thou  child  of  the  Thunderer,  who  hast  learned  to  be  calm  when  he 
shakes  the  earth  with  his  storms ;  thou  who  believest  that  he  died 
that  thou  mightest  live — what  business  hast  thou  to  be  as  weak,  in 
sorrow,  as  men  are  who  have  no  God  and  no  hope  in  the  world  ? 


riGTOMT  OF  HOPE  m  80BR0W.  349 

Then,  our  sorrows  ought  not  to  dwell  exclusively  in  our  own  loss  • 
that  is,  they  ought  not  to  be  selfish.  It  is  not  a  reproach  to  us  to 
know,  and  even  to  carry  a  sense  of  loss ;  but  it  is  a  rej)roach  to  us  if 
the  only  effect  produced  by  bereavement,  and  by  sorrow  of  heart,  is 
to  make  us  more  intensely  conscious  of  our  own  selves — especially 
of  ourselves  as  suffering. 

There  be  many  whose  afflictions  seem  to  vibrate  between  two 
things — Oh !  how  happy  was  I.  Oh  !  how  miserable  am  I.  There  has 
been  a  great  work  wrought.  There  has  been  the  shadow  of  God — for 
death  is  but  God's  shadow.  There  has  been  the  entrance  of  the 
Holy  One.  There  has  been  the  sublimest  manifestation  of  divine 
power.  And  no  child  ever  went  from  your  dwelling,  that  heaven's 
gate  did  not  open  to  receive  it.  The  gate  of  heaven  has  been  open 
before  you.  The  great  realm  of  faith  has  been  taught  you  by  the 
necessity — the  anguishful  necessity — of  your  own  soul.  And  oh  ! 
pitiful  the  result  of  all  this  magisterial  and  majestic  teaching,  if  you 
vibrate  between,  "  How  happj^  I  was  !"  and  "  How  miserable  I  am  !" 
Suffering  that  teaches  men  to  be  selfish  is  most  godless  and  most 
dangerous. 

Again,  a  true  Christian  bereavement  ought  not  to  narrow  one's 
disposition.  It  ought  not  to  shut  out  the  world,  and  to  drive  one 
into  solitude.  It  ought  not  to  lessen  the  sympathies  which  connect 
men  with  their  fellow-men.  It  ought  not  to  take  men  away  from  active 
affairs.  It  ought  not  to  despoil  energy,  industry,  and  vitality.  In 
other  words,  the  substance  and  quantity  of  a  man's  being  ought  not 
to  be  diminished  by  God's  dealing  with  him  in  the  Avay  of  sorrow. 
And  yet,  there  be  many  who  seem  to  think  that  they  have  a  right 
to  make  tliemselves  martyrs.  Under  the  shadow  of  a  great  trouble, 
they  feel  that  they  have  a  right  to  sit  down  and  bemoan  themselves . 
that  they  have  right  to  say,  "  I  have  no  more  taste  for  life — let  my 
affairs  go."  This  may  be  a  wild  infidelity  of  nature,  but  it  has  not 
saving  grace  in  it. 

One  of  the  philosoi^hies  of  poverty  and  enforced  work  is,  that 
sorrow  is  more  naturally  treated  by  them  than  it  is  in  the  lap  of 
luxury.  For  those  that  have  absolute  control  of  their  time — how 
dearly  do  they  pay  for  their  selfishness  in  their  bereavements,  in 
that  they  linger  long  and  rust  into  their  very  hearts. 

It  is  hard — I  think  to  our  natural  sympathies  there  is  scarcely  any 
thing  harder  and  more  touching — to  see  the  mother  whose  bread  re- 
quires unfaltering  industry ;  who  can  not  linger  by  her  cradle  ;  who 
still,  while  the  child  suffers  and  pants,  and  while  its  breath  grows 
shorter,  must  either  be  away,  or  can  be  only  by  moments  present  > 
whose  child  dies,  it  may  be,  when  she  is  not  there ;  who  takes  it  in 
her   anguished   arms;    whose   neighbors  give  her  bread  while  she 


350  VICTORY  OF  HOPE  IN  SORROW. 

buries  lier  dead;  who,  after  a  fitful  sleep  of  the  next  after-night, 
wakes  to  feel  the  dismal  load  of  necessity  settling  down  on  her,  and 
gays,  "  O  God  !  that  T  might  stop  but  for  an  hour."  Ancf  yet  it  is  a 
blessing  that  she  can  not  wait  for  a  moment.  For,  though  it  be  hard 
to  rise,  hard  to  take  hold  of  the  old  accustomed  things,  hard  to  work 
when  her  sore  heart  beats  in  her,  and  all  things  cry  wearily  for  rest, 
yet  tliere  is  medicine  in  work.  Sorrows,  under  such  necessities,  keep 
men  in  their  manhood ;  keej)  them  from  growing  narrowly  selfish ; 
keep  them  from  tearing  asunder  the  bonds  that  connect  them  with 
the  great  family  of  men ;  keep  them  to  duty.  And  though  it  is  a 
hard  thing  to  bear,  it  is  a  blessed  medicine  to  take.  For,  are  God's 
dealings  with  us  in  trouble,  only  such  dealings  as  we  might  suppose 
would  be  fit  for  slaves  ?  Are  you — ye  that  hope  in  Jesus  Christ — 
less  than  God's  children  ?  Are  you  craven  slaves  ?  Where  is  your 
crown?  Is  your  cradle  empty?  Then  there  is  the  more  need  of 
your  taking  hold  of  the  crown.  Is  your  hand  empty  ?  Then  there 
is  the  more  need  that  you  should  touch  the  sceptre.  Is  your  heai-t 
weary  and  sore  ?  Then  the  more  you  need  that  great  Heart  in  which 
is  balm.  Ah !  in  the  moment  of  your  deepest  darkness  and  des- 
pondency, call  on  that  name  that  has  more  power  to  conjure  with 
than  all  other  names  that  ever  were  named  on  earth.  It  is  the 
time  for  a  man  that  is  a  Christian  to  show  that  he  is  a  Christ's  man, 
when  he  is  in  the  midst  of  sorrow. 

I  do  not  say  that  you  need  to  keep  back  your  tears.  Cry. 
Tears  do  men  good.  I  do  not  say  that  you  need  to  lay  aside  sufi'er- 
ing.  Suffer.  But  let  tears  and  smiles  alternate.  I  do  not  say  that 
you  should  go  forth  in  the  morning  after  the  burial  of  your  dearest 
one  just  as  apt  as  at  any  other  time.  I  shoiild  like  to  see  your  hand 
forget  its  cunning  a  little.  But  I  should  like  to  see  that  glorious 
light  of  hope  dashing  in  upon  your  sorrow,  as  on  a  stormy  day  the  sun 
breaks  through  the  clouds,  and  makes  all  things  radiant  and  beauti- 
ful. Let  your  carriage  of  yourself  show  that  there  is  a  higher  strug- 
gle going  on  in  you  than  takes  place  in  ordinary  men.  Let  it  be  seen 
that  where  other  men  would  have  had  only  clouded  and  unbroken 
grief,  there  is  something  in  you  that  is  w^orking  out  a  clear  sky  which 
shall  disclose  the  full  beams  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness. 

After  the  first  sudden  sorrow  in  a  Christian,  he  should  climb  into 
his  higher  nature,  and  arouse  in  himself  a  life  of  moral  feeling.  The 
first  effects  of  grief  are  selfish,  stunning,  down-pushing ;  but  the  re- 
actional  eifect  of  every  grief  in  a  Christian  nature  should  be  to  lift 
one  higher — not  higher  than  trouble,  but  higher  than  subjugation  to 
trouble.  Real  sufiering  ought  to  make  every  man  stronger,  finer,  and 
better  than  tempered  steel.  SuflTering,  in  a  real  Christian  nature, 
should  make  it  deeper — should  enrich  it. 


VICTORY  OF  HOPE  IN  SORROW.  351 

Dr.  Spurzlieim  used  to  say  that  no  woman  was  fit  to  be  a  wife  and 
mother  till  she  had  been  educated  in  suffering.  I  say  that  no  man 
or  woman  is  fit  for  the  highest  offices  of  friendship  and  of  life  until  he 
or  she  has  had  a  full  experience  of  suffering.  I  do  not  say  that  there 
are  not  admirable  people  who  never  have  suffered ;  but  I  say  that 
they  Avould  be  more  admirable,  good  as  they  are,  if  they  had  suffered 
more.  I  do  say  that  suffering  is  necessary  to  turn  the  acids  of  life 
into  sugar — to  make  the  saps  sweet.  I  do  say  that  suffering  should 
be  to  human  dispositions  what  the  early  frosts  of  autumn  are  to  the 
almost  ripened  leaves,  which  turn  them  into  gorgeous  colors,  and  fill 
the  whole  sky  with  the  tokens  of  coming  death  and  glorious  beauty. 

A  vine  that  is  left  to  ramble  till  it  grows  all  over  the  tree-top,  is 
not  half  so  much  a  vine  as  one  that  is  cut  back  skillfully,  and  laid  in 
fair  proportions  on  the  trellis,  and  tied  there.  And  a  man  that  has 
his  own  way,  and  rambles  just  as  his  affections  choose  to  go,  is  not  half 
so  much  a  man  as  one  whom  God  has  tenderly  pruned,  and  cut  back,  and 
laid,  and  tied  in.  In  the  case  of  the  man,  as  in  that  of  the  vine,  the 
one  that  is  wisely  checked  and  trained  becomes  more  fruitful,  and  the 
fruit  becomes  better. 

Once  more.  Every  man  that  suffers  bereavement  is  bound  to 
make  it  manifest  that  it  is  grace,  and  not  nature,  that  heals.  It  is 
true  that  grace  employs  nature;  and  that  nature  may  heal  men  with- 
out employing  grace.  What  I  mean  is,  that  there  should  be  this  tes- 
timony borne  of  the  healing  power  of  grace.  People  say  of  great 
suffering,  "  Bear  it,  my  dear,  2:)atiently  ;  time  cures  all  things."  Yes, 
time  is  a  good  sexton,  and  buries  a  good  deal  out  of  sight ;  and  if  we 
can  get  nothing  better,  time  is  a  good  nurse,  and  comforts  a  great 
many  :  blessed  be  God,  it  will  do  the  work:  but  a  man  that  is  diVian 
ought  to  be  ashamed  if  nothing  can  cure  him  but  time  !  Why,  do 
not  you  know  that  a  great  many  of  our  faults  are  not  cured  by  our 
will,  but  simjily  by  the  expenditure  of  vital  force  ?  A  man's  temper 
is  often  subdued  because  age  has  taken  away  something  of  the  fire  of 
his  blood.  He  has  not  the  same  force  in  him ;  and  his  weakness  is 
called  control  of  his  temper.  Not  at  all.  If  a  man's  temper  is  to  be 
controlled,  let  me  see  him  when  he  has  blood  in  him,  and  when  his 
blood  is  hot ;  then  let  him  profess  the  name  of  God,  and  by  the  jjower 
of  that  name  let  me  see  him  bridle  his  temper.  It  is  grace  that  cures 
it  under  such  circumstances.  But  controlling  one's  temper  by  wait- 
ing till  the  force  of  passion  is  gone,  is  like  fording  a  stream  by  wait- 
ing till  it  has  run  out !  What  sort  of  fording  is  that,  where  a  man 
goes  and  encamps  by  the  side  of  a  stream  that  is  pouring  violently 
down  the  mountain,  and  waits  till  it  has  run  out,  and  goes  across  dry- 
shod,  saying,  "  I  have  got  over  this  mighty  stream,  and  escaped  this 
fearful  peril "  ? 


352  VIC  TORT  OF  HOPE  IN     SORROW. 

How  many  there  are  tliat  wait  till  tlieir  griefs  are  worn  out  be* 
fore  they  get  over  them !  How  many  men  are  there  that  can  stand 
in  the  midst  of  their  griefs  and  say,  as  did  the  children  of  Israel  in 
the  furnace,  "  The  form  of  a  fourth  is  with  us ;  therefore  the  flame 
shall  not  consume  us  "  ?  How  many  are  there  that  can  take  their  sor- 
rows, when  their  hearts  are  aching  and  smarting  with  them,  and  their 
natures  are  bowed  down  under  them,  and  say,  "  Now,  Lord,  if  I  am  to 
have  a  victory  in  my  distress,  thou  must  give  me  the  power  of  this 
victory  "  ?  How  many  are  there  that  can  come  to  Jesus  and  plead 
with  him  for  relief  in  the  hour  of  trouble  ?  You  plead  with  Christ 
for  many  things ;  you  pray  that  you  may  have  Christian  faith,  and 
die  in  Christian  comfort ;  you  pray  that  you  may  appear  in  the  resur- 
rection ;  you  pray  that  you  may  be  at  the  right  hand  of  God ;  but 
how  many  can  stand  in  the  midst  of  fiery  trials,  and  pray,  saying, 
"  Now,  Lord,  noio  give  me  thy  promise ;  I  will  not  let  thee  go  unless 
thou  bless  me  now  and  here"  ? 

And  oh  !  how  m"any  are  there  of  persons  who  are  active  in  Chris- 
tian life  that  are  sweetly  proud  !  There  is  a  pride  in  humility  some- 
times. How  many  persons  there  are  that  are  model  people,  excel- 
lent people ;  who  comfort  the  poor ;  who  pray  by  the  side  of  the 
sick ;  who  are  liberal  with  the  bounties  that  God  gives  them ;  who 
live  to  do  good — to  whose  dwelling  by  and  by  comes  the  overshadow- 
ing angel !  Their  house  is  dark  because  so  many  angels  are  spread- 
ing their  wings  above  it.  Methinks  out  goes  another  angel  from 
their  midst.  And  they  are  bowed  down  in  their  distress.  And  here 
is  an  opportunity  for  them  to  stand  up  more  radiant,  and  bear  witness 
for  Christ,  such  as  perhaps  they  will  never  again  in  all  their  life  have 
occasion  to  bear.  But  they  have  never  been  instructed  that  there 
was  a  duty  of  victory  in  suffering.  And  yet,  you  owe  it  to  the 
sacred  Name ;  you  owe  it  to  all  your  hope ;  you  owe  it  to  all  the 
practical  worth  of  suffering  in  this  world ;  you  owe  it  to  mankind ; 
to  show  that  in  the  extremest  suffering  there  is  a  victory,  and  that 
the  Christian's  sorrow  is  not  like  that  of  those  who  have  no  hope. 
Oh !  if  there  were  that  faith  in  which  one  could  stand  up  in  the  hour 
of  extremest  suffering,  and  cast  away  bitter  memories,  and  throw 
away  morbid  sorrows  and  sufferings ;  in  which  one  could  take  the 
disagreeable  medicine,  and  yet  rejoice  ;  in  which  one  could  take  such 
a  hold  upon  Christ,  and  have  such  an  insight  into  the  promised  land, 
that  he  should  stand  quite  apart  from  other  people  in  his  sorrows, 
bow  sweet  and  convincing  a  testimony  it  would  be  ! 

Now,  you  may  put  all  the  skeptical  men  that  ever  lived  on  the 
face  of  the  earth  on  one  side,  and  they  may  plead  in  my  ears  ;  and  all 
the  scientists  may  stand  with  them,  and  may  marshal  all  the  facts  of 
the  universe,  to  disprove  the  truth  of  Immanuel — God  with  us ;  and 


VICTORY   OF  HOPE  IN  SORROW.  353 

yet,  let  me  see  my  mother  walking  in  a  great  sorrow,  but  from  the 
surface  of  her  sorrow  reflecting  the  light  of  cheer  and  heavenly  hope, 
patient,  sweet,  gentle,  full  of  comfort  for  others,  yea,  and  showing  by 
her  life  as  well  as  by  her  lips  that  Avith  the  consolation  with  which 
she  is  comforted  she  is  comforting  others — and  that  single  instance 
of  suffering  is  more  to  me,  as  an  CA'idence  of  the  truth  of  Christianity, 
than  all  the  arguments  that  the  wisest  men  can  possibly  bring  against 
it.  The  sight  of  piety  is  absolutely  convincing.  And  to  see  the  soul 
of  a  man  globe  itself  up  where  other  men  shrink,  and  show  itself  to 
be  clothed  in  great  power  where  other  men  are  very  feeble  ;  to  see 
men  able  to  shed  tears  with  their  eyes  while  smiles  are  on  their  lips ; 
to  see  men  give  up  every  thing,  and  stretch  out  their  arms  to  take  in 
every  thing ;  to  see  men  stand  upon  the  earth  by  faith,  and  lift  them, 
selves  above  storms  till  the  sun  of  the  eternal  world  rests  upon  their 
heads — to  see  this,  is  to  see  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel.  To  present 
such  a  spectacle  is  to  preach  Christ  indeed. 

Is  the  cradle  empty  ?  That  empty  cradle  is  your  pxilpit  from 
which  you  are  to  preach  Christ.  Is  the  bed  empty  ?  That  is  the 
place  from  which  to  preach  Jesus  "  a  present  help  "  to  you  "  in  time 
of  trouble."  Are  you  cut  off,  as  it  were,  from  the  hope  and  from  the 
joy  of  life  ?  Oh  !  no.  Oh  !  no.  Stand  in  your  lot.  And  in  this  be- 
reavement, as  from  a  pulpit,  preach  that  Christ  who  has  promised 
peace  to  those  that  come  to  him. 

Christian  brethren,  I  feel  very  deeply  in  this  matter.  I  feel  the 
paganism  that  there  is  in  the  Christian  pulpit,  and  the  paganism  that 
there  is  in  Christian  families.  I  shudder,  when  I  go  about  from  week 
to  week  in  the  performance  of  my  ministerial  duties,  to  see  what  a 
heathen  notion  we  have  of  death ;  to  see  how  sordid  and  beggarly 
sorrow  is ;  to  see  how  few  there  are  that  feel  the  inspiration  of  vic- 
tory ;  to  see  how  almost  always  I  have  to  lift  up  men.  I  long  for 
somebody  to  lift  me  up.  I  long  to  see  those  genuine  spirits,  those 
dear  and  generous  natures,  those  true  children  of  Jesus,  who  having 
heard  his  voice,  and  believing  that  he  will  go  with  them  through  the 
fire  and  through  the  flood,  stand  in  their  sorrows  so  courageous,  so 
pure,  and  so  sweet,  that  I  shall  take  new  hope,  and  go  on  preaching 
Christ  with  new  vigor.  I  need  to  be  helped  as  well  as  you.  I  need 
some  "  epistles."  I  need  to  see  that  the  Gospel  has  produced  in  you 
an  unwonted  manliness. 

It  comforts  me  when  I  see  extraordinary  honesty.  Do  I  denounce 
dishonesty  because  I  love  to  find  fault !  I  love  an  honest  man  a  great 
deal  more  than  I  hate  a  dishonest  man.  I  love  goodness  a  thousand 
times  more  than  I  hate  badness.  I  desire  to  see  honor,  and  purity, 
and  strength,  and  radiant  faith  and  victory,  in  men.  It  helps  me  to 
live.     It  helps  me  to  preach  to  other  men  about  life.     And  when  I  go 


354  VIGTOBY  OF  HOPE  IN  SORROW 

from  house  to  house,  and  see  that  a  sorrow  has  fallon  upon  the  in- 
mates, and  tlierefore  a  defeat ;  when  I  see  no  man  standing  up,  but 
all  men  flattened  down  and  beaten  to  the  ground,  and  like  a  flower 
disheveled  in  a  shower  and  covered  with  spattering  mud,  I  long  and 
desire  that  there  might  be  some  who  should  teach  me  how  to  teach 
others  better. 

I  hate  the  mourning  of  black.  It  is  not  God's  color.  I  hate  to 
see  men  trodden  down.  It  is  not  what  my  Master  deserves  at  the  hands 
of  men.  I  want  to  see  cheer  and  joy.  I  do  not  rebuke  you  to  hurt 
your  feelings,  I  wonld  lift  you  out  of  the  realm  of  the  v/orld,  and 
into  a  higher  realm,  where  "  the  peace  of  God  which  passeth  all  under- 
standing "  may  abide  with  you  forever  and  forever. 

May  God  teach  us,  as  one  by  one  we  come  into  our  day  of  trouble, 
that  we  are  not  alone  subject  to  this  draft;  that  it  is  a  draft  which 
takes  every  body.  May  God  teach  us,  when  our  trouble  comes,  to 
look  instantly,  after  the  first  shock,  for  victory  in  sorrow.  And  then 
at  last  may  lie  give  us  victory  over  death,  and  bear  us,  through  the 
ministration  of  sufiering  and  dying,  to  that  victorious  land  where 
there  is  no  more  suffering,  because  there  is  utter  purity  forever  and 
forever. 


PRAYER    BEFORE   THE    SERMON. 

We  thank  thee,  our  Father,  for  all  the  truth  which  has  heen  made  manifest  through  Jesna 
Christ  onr  Lord ;  for  the  exceeding  great  and  precious  promises  which  he  has  made  to  us ;  which 
are  Tea  and  Amen ;  which  we  have  proved  in  life.  In  life  we  have  proved  the  promises  which 
have  respect  to  this  world.  Thy  promises  which  touch  the  matter  of  sorrow,  we  have  known. 
Thou  hast  promised  many  things  to  us  in  adversity,  and  in  darkness,  and  in  trouble  ;  and  every 
one  of  them  has  been  fulfilled  abundantly,  beyond  what  we  thought ;  and  we  believe  that  all  thy 
promises  shall  be  fulfilled.  In  weakness,  in  sufiering,  in  temptation,  in  age,  in  old  age,  in  sick- 
ness, in  dying,  in  the  resurrection,  and  in  the  life  to  come,  thou  hast  not  overpromised  ;  thou  hast 
not  promised  as  much  as  thou  wilt  perform.  Thou  wilt  do  exceeding  abundantly  more  than  aU 
the  words  contain  which  thou  hast  uttered.  Thou  art  overflowing  in  thy  goodness.  It  is  not  in 
stinted  measure,  nor  reluctantly,  but  joyously,  forerunning  our  requests,  meeting  us  at  every  step, 
as  proffering  and  offering  thou  dost  give.  And  we  rejoice  In  this  fullness  of  thy  nature ;  in  this  great- 
ness of  thy  soul  and  heart ;  in  the  overflowing  of  thy  love ;  and  in  the  potency  by  which  thou 
canst  forever  give  undiminished,  forever  live,  and  be  forever  young. 

We  desire,  O  Lord  onr  God  !  to  make  haste  from  all  that  is  earthly,  from  all  that  is  material, 
from  all  that  allies  us  to  the  lower  creations.  We  desire  to  perfect  that  part  of  ourselves  which 
is  like  thee,  and  which  shall  blossom  uito  purity  and  holiness  in  the  life  to  come.  We  desire  to 
live  by  that,  deriving  from  it  those  rules  of  life,  day  by  day,  by  which  we  shall  be  able  to  control 
the  world ;  by  which  we  shall  be  masters  here ;  while  subject  to  natural  law,  still  controlling  all 
things  with  patience,  with  hope,  with  faith,  vrith  purity. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  we  may  lean  upon  thee  evermore,  and  find  in  thy  companion- 


VICTORY  OF  HOPE  IN  SORROW.  355 

ship  that  -which  slxill  make  all  other  love  bright  and  dear ;  that  which  shall  make  all  else  more 
tolerable  ;  that  which  shall  comfort  grief  with  the  consolations  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

We  pray  that  to  all  those  who  are  in  circumstances  of  present  trial,  of  perplexity,  of  donbt,  of 
anxiety  and  foreboding,  of  fear ;  to  all  who  are  bearing  remorse  and  anguish ;  to  all  that  are  be- 
reaved ;  to  all  that  fear  bereavement ;  to  all  that  stand  trembling  in  the  midst  of  alternations  of 
feeling— we  pray,  Lord  Jesus,  that  to  these  thou  wilt  send  forth  the  promised  Comforter,  and  the 
succor  that  is  in  the  Holy  Ghost.  And  may  there  be,  ere  long,  testimonies  of  gratitude  that  shall 
make  kno^vTi  thy  goodness  to  them,  and  their  victory  through  thee. 

We  pray  that  tliou  wilt  teach  us  aU  to  find  more  joy  in  sorrow,  and  more  strength  in  weak- 
ness. Grant  that  we  may  find  more  victories  in  defeat.  May  we  know  how  to  die,  that  we  may 
live.  May  we  know  how  to  be  empty,  that  we  may  be  full.  May  we  know  how  to  be  crucified, 
that  we  may  live  with  Christ.  May  our  life  shine  ;  and  yet,  may  it  be  hidden  in  Christ.  And  so 
may  we  be  identified  with  him,  that  all  men  who  behold  us  shall  see  something  of  the  suffering  of 
his  heart,  somethmg  of  his  grace,  some  proffers  of  help,  and  some  promises  of  joy  and  immor- 
tality. 

Bless,  we  pray  thee,  those  that  are  appointed  to  bear  the  burdens  of  life,  and  to  discharge  its 
active  duties.  And  while  they  are  giving  themselves  to  human  affairs,  grant,  we  beseech  of  thee, 
that  they  may  evermore  remember  that  their  true  state  is  in  the  world  that  is  to  come ;  that 
here  there  is  no  continuing  city ;  that  they  seek  a  city  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God.  And  may 
they  therefore,  while  they  toil  as  citizens,  remember  that  they  are  journeying  as  pilgrims  ;  and 
while  they  bmld,  may  they  remember  that  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  to  every  one  there  may  come  the  sanctifying  influences  of  thy 
Spirit,  by  which  our  affections,  and  our  households — the  realm  of  affection — may  be  more  purified 
and  more  sacred.  Grant  that  we  may  live  together  as  common  heirs  of  glory.  May  we  count 
ourselves  as  the  sons  of  God ;  and  may  we  see  divinity  each  in  the  other.  May  this  teach  us  how 
to  be  patient  with  faults  and  infirmities,  and  to  bear  one  another's  burdens,  and  to  seek  to  fulfil 
the  law  of  love  one  toward  another.  And  if  we  fall,  teach  us  the  way  of  godly  repentance. 
Bring  us  back  from  all  wanderings.  If  we  forget,  chide  us,  that  we  may  remember ;  and  if  we 
are  going  steadily  toward  idolatry,  afflict  us,  punish  us,  that  we  may  have  in  chastisement  the 
true  token  of  thy  love. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  win  us  from  inordinate  affections ;  from  things  wrong. 
May  we  not  dwell  even  with  our  imaginations  upon  them.  May  we  not  go  near  them.  May  we 
learn  how,  in  the  strength  of  God,  to  go  through  the  grounds  of  pleasure  and  of  temptation,  and 
yet  be  tmscathed.  Give  to  us  that  shield  on  which  the  fiery  arrows  of  temptation  shall  smite  in 
vain,  and  fall  blunted. 

Grant,  we  beseech  of  thee,  that  so  we  may  journey  through  life,  bearing  our  appointed  sor- 
rows, practicing  as  many  years  as  thou,  in  thy  wisdom,  sholt  allot  to  us.  And  then  grant,  when 
our  time  to  die  shall  come,  that  we  may  die  with  our  banner  flying,  and  with  the  name  of  the  Lord 
written  thereon.  With  great  victory  may  we  overcome  death  by  death,  and  rise  again  beyond, 
where  there  shall  be  no  death,  nor  sin,  nor  sorrow,  nor  suffering ;  where  thou  art  gathering  thino 
own ;  where  we  shall  be  joined  to  the  blessed  company  of  saints,  to  be  forever  with  the  Lord. 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise.  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Ainm. 


PRAYER   AFTER   THE    SERMOJ^. 

Grant  unto  us,  our  heavenly  Father,  the  inshining  of  the  Spirit,  and  the  indwelling  of  thy 
truth,  by  which  we  shall  be  mightier  than  the  accidents  of  life  ;  mightier  than  the  circumstances 
that  surround  us ;  mightier  than  our  own  nature  ;  by  which  we  shall  have  the  power  of  divine 


356 


VICTOBT  OF  HOPE  IN  SORROW. 


grace  to  lift  us  above  the  weakness  of  the  flesh,  above  the  weakness  of  the  affections.  Teach  na 
how  to  walk  as  the  people  of  God.  Make  it  real  to  us  that  we  are  the  Lord's.  Make  it  real  to  us 
not  only  that  we  are  his,  but  that  he  is  ours ;  that  all  things  are  for  our  sakes. 

Grant  unto  us,  we  beseech  of  thee,  this  indwelling.    Be  with  us  through  life.    Then  may  we 
De  with  thee  through  eternal  life.    Amen. 


IMPOSTORS. 

■      BY  HEJTEY  WAED  BEECHEB.  ' 

My  DeJiT  Mr.  Bonner— I  am  growing  hard  hearted, 
and  all  on  account  oi  beggars.  Ones  i  could  not  see 
a  poor  fellow  with  a  tUin  coat,  in  winter  time,  with- 
out conipasbion.  Now,  so  ripe  and  rich  an  experi- 
ence Lave  I  Lad  of  ioipositjun  that  1  look  upon  a 
wasied  coat  as  a  mere  device  of  knavery,  and  Loles 
iu  the  elbow  as  investments,  and  clouted  shoes  as 
capital  put  into  the  thrifty  trade  of  begf^iug. 

if  a  man  s^ays  that  he  is  hungry,  1  do  not  believe 
him;  iLiac  be  is  just  out  of  tLe  hospital,  I  don't  be- 
lieve it;  tLat  he  is  lame,  I  regard  tLe  undeniable 
limp  as  an  artful  trick;  tliat  he  Las  bad  Lis  pocket 
T.icked,  and  wants  money  to  get  to  Albany  or  Boston, 
i  consider  it  as  only  another  tLread  reeled  otf  from 
tbe  infinite  cocoon  of  imposition. 

Thus  I  lind  my  Leart  hardening,  and  persons  in 
want  sccm  like  personal  enemies,  with  iierpetual  de- 
signs upon  me. 

Teals  and  plausible  stories,  soon  proved  false,  have 
been  so  oUen  tried,  that  1  feel  repulsed  at  the  sight 
of  crying,  or  the  sound  of  woe. 

My  very  letters  are  imbittered.  One  writes  me  in 
a  strain  vi  rapiuous  piety,  and  pours  out  her  relig- 
ious euthusia.^m  like  a  brook  coming  forth  iu  spring, 
fresti  and  full  from  tLe  veins  of  the  mountain. 

I  rejoice  inwardly  tbat  tbere  are  sucL  gracious 
states;  until,  a  fortnigLt  later,  tLe  writer  discloses 
herself  as  one  needing  two  hundred  and  tifty  iloUars 
to  meet  expenses,  and  pleads  a  loau  with  texts  and 
gushing  religious  trust. 

It  is  awful  to  look  upon  people  as  so  many  miners 
and  sappers  come  to  iiierce  to  your  treasure  «best. 
Is  it  not  better  to  be  imposed  upon,  and  (to  keep  up 
the  habit  of  giving  to  importunity,  for  the  sake  of 
keeping  our  own  heart  gentle  and  tender? 

Tiicie  is  also  another  danger  from  wLich  I  pray  to 
be  delivered — tLat  of  becoming  a  macLiue  adminis- 
trator of  cLaiity. 

There  ure  tLose  who  have  become  so  used  to  look- 
ing after  the  poor,  and  dealing  with  tLeir  faults,  as 
v/ed  as  wants,  tLat  tLey  go  through  the  lessons  of 
chaiity  and  lelief  as  if  it  were  a  mere  liturgy,  grown 
slippery  by  long  use,  and  to  be  rattled  oif  as  fast  as 
possible.  Tims  all  poor  are  treated  alike,  and  all  ot 
iLem  as  if  they  had  no  feeli.ig,  and  as  if  human 
heart?  were  hke  so  many  buckets  to  be  fillud  without 
regaiii  to  sensibility. 

How  shall  one  learn  to  avoid  a  kind  of  policeman's 
suspicion  of  all  persons  in  want?  How  shall  one  ad- 
iuini.-<ier  relief  so  that  the  sympathy  shall  do  more 
good  than  the  band-tjUing  gift?  How  shall  one  gain 
and  hold  tLe  just  medium  between  Lard  Leartedness 
and  over  soft  heart edness?  Can  you  tell?  Can  any- 
body tell?    [Mew  York  Ledger.  . 


XXIIL 

The  Ceime  of  Degeadikg  Mek 


THE  CRIME  OF  DEGKADING  MEN. 


SUNDAY  EVENING,  JANUARY  17,  1869. 


"  But  whoso  sliall  offend  one  of  these  little  ones  wliich  believe  in  me,  it  were 
better  for  him  that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his  neck,  and  that  he  were 
drowned  in  the  depth  of  the  sea.  Woe  unto  the  world  because  of  offences !  for  it 
must  needs  be  that  offences  come ;  but  woe  to  that  man  by  whom  the  offence 
Cometh!" — Matt,  xviii.  6,  7. 


This  is  one  of  the  most  striking  scenes  in  the  whole  life  of  the 
Saviour,  one  of  the  most  striking  instances  of  teaching,  where  he 
took  a  little  child,  and  set  him  in  the  midst  of  the  disciples,  and  de- 
clared unto  them,  that  of  such  was  the  kingdom  of  heaven ;  that 
unless  they  became  as  a  little  child — that  is,  were  born  again — they 
should  in  no  case  see  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  And  then  lie  declared 
that  whosoever  should  cause  one  of  them  to  oifend — you  will  mark  the 
difference ;  not  whosoever  should  offend  one  of  them,  in  our  sense 
of  making  him  angry,  was  so  culpable ;  but,  whoever  should 
cause  a  child  to  go  wrong ;  Avhoever  should  so  treat  a  child  as  to  dam- 
age its  moral  constitution,  its  affectional  nature,  its  present  life  or  its 
prospect  for  the  life  to  come — it  were  better  for  him  not  to  have  been 
born  ;  it  were  better  for  him  that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his 
neck,  and  that  he  were  cast  into  the  depth  of  the  sea.  You,  of  course, 
in  interpreting  this  figure,  are  not  to  imagine  our  millstones,  which 
would  seem  rather  difficult  to  tie  about  one's  neck.  The  mills  of  the 
ancients  were  handmills ;  and  the  grinding  was  done  with  stones  in 
basins  ;  and  these  stones  were  quite  manageable,  and  of  just  about  en- 
ough weight,  if  tied  about  one's  neck,  to  sink  the  head  below  the  wave. 
This  was — certainly  in  the  time  of  Christ — a  Roman  punishment,  and 
many  were  executed  in  the  sea  of  Galilee  in  that  way,  by  being  sunk 
with  stones  attached  to  them.  So  that,  dropping  it  as  a  specific  form 
of  capital  offence,  we  may  state  that  it  is  a  capital  offence  in  the 
judgment  of  our  Saviour  for  one  to  so  influence  a  fellow-creature  as 
to  be  harmful  to  him,  as  to  do  him  an  injury. 

This  is  not  a  consideration  of  those  thousand  injuries  Avhich  we 
do  to  men,  and  which  are  external,  as  stealing  from  them,  as  putting 
Lesson  :  Ps.  x.    Hymns  (Plymoutli  Collection) :  Nos.  503, 274,  1339. 


358  TEE  CRIME  OF  DEGRADING   MEN. 

them  to  pain,  or  as  putting  them  to  shame.  It  may  invclve  all  these ; 
but  the  point  of  offence  which  is  here  prominent,  and  which  is  the 
thing  to  be  considered,  is  that  it  is  some  form  of  conduct,  whether  it 
be  injurious  or  pleasant  to  persons,  which  causes  them  to  offend ; 
which  makes  them  worse  than  they  were  before.  You  are  bound  so 
to  treat  men  as  negatively  not  to  hurt  them,  and  so  as  positively  to 
do  them  good,  in  their  dispositions,  in  their  nature,  as  well  as  in  their 
external  feelings  and  circumstances. 

The  whole  passage  teaches,  in  an  eminent  manner,  the  value  of 
children.  Productively,  they  are  of  no  value.  It  is  supposed  by 
commentators  that  this  was  a  little  orphan  child.  Some  shade  of  the 
original  language  leads  to  that  impression.  A  little  child,  and  cer- 
tainly one  without  parents  and  home,  can  return  nothing  for  the  ser- 
vices rendered  to  him.  Of  all  things  that  you  can  think  of,  a  child  in 
its  earlier  years  reaps  the  most  of  care,  bestowed  with  the  least  remun- 
eration received — unless  you  take  your  pay  in  loving.  It  can  say  but  lit- 
tle. It  can  furnish  little  for  the  taste.  Very  little  can  its  hands  do.  It  has 
to  be  watched,  rather  than  to  watch.  It  has  to  be  served,  rather  than  to 
serve.  It  is  the  seed  of  hope,  it  is  the  prophecy  of  love ;  but  as 
society  reckons  men's  value — namely,  from  their  productive  force — a 
child  is  about  as  valueless  in  political  economy,  as  any  thing  that  you 
can  imagine.  Compared  with  men  in  power,  men  in  place,  and  men 
of  influence,  it  would  seem  as  if  children  must  get  out  of  the  way, 
and  let  their  superiors  pass  by.  But  the  Saviour  takes  a  little  child, 
in  all  its  helplessness,  and  an  orphan  child  at  that,  and  says,  "  So  far 
from  great  and  swelling  men  being  superior,  unless  they  be  convert- 
ed, and  become  like  this  little  child,  they  shall  not  see  the  kingdom  of 
God." 

But  this  is  only  a  strong  method  of  enforcing  the  intrinsic 
value  of  human  nature  itself.  It  is  putting  children's  value  in  a 
strong  light ;  but  it  is  because  children  are  a  part  of  the  human  race, 
or  because  their  nature  is  a  part  of  human  nature.  So  that  whatever 
reverence  may  linger  from  this  declaration  of  Christ,  for  children 
as  children,  the  inward  force  of  it  is  toward  the  value  of  human  na- 
ture, and  the  crime  of  injuring  men. 

If  injuring  the  lowest  possible  state  of  human  life  is  a  capital  of- 
fence, how  much  more  wicked  is  it  to  injure  a  greater  sum  of  being  ? 
If  our  Saviour  had  said  that  to  destroy  a  king  was  a  high  crime,  every 
body  would  have  believed  that ;  and  without  any  profit  to  the  rest  of 
mankind,  because  the  king  is  a  representative  character.  All  men 
agree  that  it  is  evil  to  strike  down  an  eminent  and  rich  and  counsel- 
ing man,  in  whom  the  state  itself  has  an  interest.  Every  body  would 
say,  "  Of  course,  a  noble,  a  prince,  a  general,  a  president,  a  monarch, 
a  philosopher,  a  genius,  a  poet,  a  painter — to  slay  these  men  is  an  out- 


THE   CRIME   OF  DEGRADING   MEN.  359 

rage."  Bat  it  is  tlie  painter  that  is  slain  ;  it  is  the  king ;  it  is  the  magis- 
trate ;  it  is  the  philosopher. 

Our  Saviour  wanted  to  show  that  with  God,  independent  of 
these  intrinsic  reasons,  there  was  something  that  was  unspeakably  pre- 
cious in  the  mere  element  of  manhood,  in  the  mere  element  of  being  ; 
and  therefore  he  goes  to  the  very  lowest  type  of  man's  life.  He  takes 
not  the  king,  nor  the  king's  child ;  he  takes  not  the  great  man,  nor 
the  petted  children  of  great  men ;  he  picks  out  the  little  ori:>han  that 
had  neither  father  nor  mother  alive,  that  nobody  knew  or  cared  for, 
apparently,  and  said,  "He  that  causes  as  much  humanity  as  there  is 
in  this  little  child  to  offend,  he  that  damages  this  little  child,  had  bet- 
ter lose  his  life.     It  is  a  capital  offence." 

Now,  if  beginning  at  the  bottom,  and  putting  such  a  measure  to 
comprehensive  manhood  as  is  developed  there  in  its  least  power  and 
in  its  lowest  aspects  ;  if  manhood  is  as  valuable  there  as  it  is  at  every 
step  in  which  it  develops  itself;  then  every  step  of  its  ascent,  every 
added  virtue,  every  added  stress  of  power,  all  that  goes  to  develop  a 
diviner  model  and  nature  in  the  soul,  makes  it  more  imperative  that 
you  should  be  careful  that  you  honor,  and  do  not  harm,  human  nature. 

Men  need  their  duties  and  their  dangers  on  this  subject  to  be  often 
and  clearly  pointed  out.  I  do  not  suppose  that  we  often,  any  of  us, 
deliberately  harm  men — that  is  to  say,  cause  them  to  offend.  I  sup- 
pose that  few  of  us  are  willing  to  blind  men ;  few  of  us  to  bewil- 
der the  way  of  truth  ;  that  few  of  us  are  willing,  for  the  sake  of  our 
own  vanity,  or  our  own  pride,  to  mislead  men,  knowing  that  we  are 
doing  it.  It  is  an  unconscious  damage  that  we  are  doing,  and  that 
we  need  most  to  have  set  before  us,  that  we  may  take  heed. 

1.  Parents  are  frequently  the  cause  of  many  of  the  faults  which 
grow  into  great  depravities  in  theii  children.  It  is  true  that  there 
are  children  who  receive  a  nature  impracticable  —  almost  unmanage- 
able. It  is  true  that  the  sins  of  the  fathers  are  in  such  a  sense  visited 
upon  their  children,  and  their  children's  children  ;  and  that  parents  fre- 
quently have  to  manage  children  that  task  their  wisdom,  and  would 
task  the  highest  wisdom.  But  these  are  exceptional  cases.  Ordina- 
rily, our  children  are  very  much  what  we  make  them.  A  great  many 
bad  men  are  made  bad  by  the  moral  government  and  the  mistakes  of 
parents.  The  very  theory  of  family  government  frequently  destroys 
the  child.  For  there  are  many  that  act  as  though  they  believed  that 
their  children  were  pretty  little  slaves ;  that  the  .Lord  filled  their 
houses  with  them  to  serve  them.  It  is  supposed  that  the  child  is  in 
the  house  to  run  of  errands  for  the  parent ;  to  hand  him  things  ;  to 
amuse  him  ;  to  be  of  use  to  him  in  his  hours  of  leisure ;  and  the  pa- 
rent acts  all  the  time  as  though  it  was  the  business  of  the  child  to  do 
these  things.      There  is  that  distinction  made  in  family  government. 


360  THE  CRIME   OF  DEORADINa   MEN. 

The  cliild  is  treated  as  if  he  had  no  riglits.  He  is  snubbed  as  if  he  had 
no  feelings.  He  is  frequently  provoked — and  to  such  a  degree  that  the 
Scrijature  stepped  in  and  said,  "  Fathers,  provoke  not  your  children 
to  anger,  lest  tliey  be  discouraged,"  and  become  desperate,  and  do  not 
care  how  they  act. 

We  see  that  still.  It  grew  out  largely  from  the  old  Roman  and 
Oriental  notion  of  sonship.  For  parents  were  the  owners  of  their 
children,  just  as  they  were  the  owners  of  any  thing  else  that  was  their 
property.  But  we  are  living  in  communities  where  different  ideas 
prevail;  and  now,  children  will  not  submit  as  once  they  would  have 
submitted.  It  is  said  that  children  are  a  world  smarter  than  they 
used  to  be.  They  are  ;  and  you  can  not  help  it.  Society  is  different. 
The  theory  of  society  is  different.  Government  does  not  mean  the 
same  to  us  that  it  meant  to  antiquity.  And  in  such  a  libei-alized 
community  it  is  impossible  to  continue  the  old  Roman  doctrine  of 
family  government.  If  children  are  living  in  such  an  atmosphere,  or 
are  surrounded  by  sucb  influences,  it  will  lead  to  resistance  and 
recrimination. 

Worse  than  that,  it  leads  children  to  deceit.  Being  treated  as 
slaves,  they  imbibe  the  vices  of  slaves,  one  of  which  is  craft.  Weak- 
ness always  employs  deceit  against  force.  Since  it  can  not  resist  it 
openly  and  overthrow  it,  it  undermines  it  to  its  harm. 

In  that  way  children  are  over-governed,  and  sinfully,  almost  bru- 
tally governed  in  the  household.  It  is  a  mercy  and  a  sj^ecial  provi- 
dence of  God  if  they  grow  up  uncontaminated.  They  are  twisted, 
they  are  bent,  they  are  fatally  damaged  ;  and  there  is  many  and 
many  a  parent,  I  doubt  not,  who  in  amazement  will  rise  in  the  last 
day,  to  hear  the  Judge  declare,  "  The  ruin  of  that  child  I  lay  at  your 
door.     Ye  caused  him  to  offend !" 

On  the  opposite  side  is  also  the  mischief  and  the  injury  done  un- 
intentionally, but  nevertheless  just  as  really,  by  those  who  love  their 
children  weakly,  who  love  them  without  any  sense  of  equity,  who  love 
them  with  such  self-indulgence  that  they  can  not  bear  to  pain  them  even 
as  much  as  is  necessary  to  make  them  well-governed  children.  They 
indulge  them  to  their  harm  ;  and  so  bring  them  up  to  self-indulgence 
and  unrestrained  passions  and  waywardness.'  They  cause  them  "  to 
offend." 

Over-severity  and  relaxation  of  government  are  the  two  extremes 
which  meet  in  the  common  destruction  of  children ;  and  the  one  and 
the  other  are  crimes — not  simply  crimes  against  a  technical  law,  but 
crimes  against  humanity,  and  crimes,  too,  of  which  the  Saviour  said, 
"  Whoso  shall  offend  one  of  these  little  ones  which  believe  in  me,  it 
were  better  for  him  that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his  neck,  and 
that  he  were  drowned  in  the  depth  of  the  sea." 


THE   CRIME   OF  DEGRADING   MEN.  361 

It  is  a  very  solemn  and  serious  matter  for  you  to  be  intrusted 
with  the  care  of  God's  little  children.  One  would  think,  to  see  the 
mating  that  goes  on  in  society — and  it  is  a  beautiful  thing  in  its  way 
— that  butterflies  were  let  loose,  so  liglit,  and  gay,  and  happy  are  the 
hearts  that  sail  together  and  play  around  each  other.  One  would 
think  to  hear  the  cheerful  congratulations  that  accompany  the  putting 
out  of  a  young  life  in  the  family  state,  that  there  was  no  responsi- 
bility connected  with  the  event.  And  when  there  begin  to  be  "  an- 
gels miawares"  coming  into  the  household,  one  after  another,  how 
joyous  it  is  !  And  the  silver  cups  and  little  congratulatory  notes  are 
plenty.  But  how  few  there  are  who  feel  that,  from  the  time  the  door 
of  life  opens,  and  a  child  is  born,  God  has  drawn  his  hand  out 
from  near  to  his  own  heart,  and  lent  something  of  himself  to  the  pa- 
rent, and  said,  "  Keep  it  till  I  come ;  take  this,  my  own  child,  and 
educate  it  for  me,  and  bring  it  to  heaven,  and  let  its  improving  and 
its  profiting  appear  when  ye  and  it  stand  together  in  the  last  day." 
It  is  a  very  solemn  thing  to  have  a  family,  and  to  have  children,  of 
which  you  are  not  only  the  parent,  but  the  guardian  and  the  guide, 
and  in  some  sense  the  saviour, 

2.  Our  pride  and  inconsideration  may,  and  often  do,  result  in  a 
train  of  evils  to  the  character  of  our  servants,  of  our  clerks,  and  of 
the  working-men  that  are  under  our  care.  In  the  ordinance  of  soci- 
ety, it  will  always  be  that  there  will  be  the  wise  and  the  not  wise,  the 
strong  and  the  weak,  the  superior  and  the  inferior.  It  is  not  a  dis- 
grace to  be  in  a  subordinate  position ;  and  it  ought  not  to  be  even 
painful.  When  society  shall  be  thoroughly  christianized,  so  that  all 
parts  shall  be  tempered  together  both  in  equity  and  in  love,  the  in- 
ferior in  society  will  be  grieved  no  more  than  little  children  are  in 
the  household.  The  little  child  is  a  subordinate ;  but  he  does  not 
feel  that  his  low  estate  is  a  misfortune.  And  when  the  strong  bear 
the  infirmities  of  the  Aveak,  when  the  superior  feel  that  upon  them  are 
laid  high  obligations,  that  they  are  benefactors,  that  they  are  light- 
carriers,  that  they  are  set  for  the  defense  of  the  feeble,  that  they  are 
not  to  treat  them  as  their  prey,  but  as  their  wards,  then,  superior  and 
inferior  will  be  stripped  of  many  invidious  feelings  and  discrimina- 
tions that  now  wait  upon  these  terms. 

Too  often,  Christian  men,  as  well  as  others,  do  not  consider  either 
the  interests  or  the  feelings  of  those  whom  they  employ.  The 
whole  transaction  is  summed  up  in  this :  "  For  so  much  you  serve 
me  in  such  a  sphere.  Here  are  your  wages,  and  here  are  your  duties." 
That  is  barbarous.  A  man  is  not  a  machine  that  has  no  feelings,  and 
that  runs  with  so  much  falling  water,  or  with  so  much  steam.  There 
is  not  a  servant  that  you  employ  who  is  not  just  like  you  in  con- 
science, in  sympathy,  in  love,  in  hope,  in  ambition,  in  pride,  and  fre- 


362  THE  CRIME   OF  BEGHADINQ    MEN. 

quently  in  aelicacy  of  feeling.  There  is  not  one  of  them  that  does 
not,  like  you,  desire  recognition,  praise,  gentleness,  forbearance, 
patience.  There  is  not  one  of  them  that  has  not  in  him,  like  you, 
the  elements  of  true  manhood.  There  is  not  one  of  them  for  whom 
Christ  did  not  die.  There  is  not  one  of  them  that  is  not  sacred  in  the 
eight  of  God.  There  is  not  one  of  them  that  has  not  his  guardian 
angels  round  about  him.  And  to  take  such  a  one,  and  suppose 
that  all  your  duties  are  discharged  in  those  industrial  relations  which 
we  sustain  one  to  anotlier,  measuring  so  much  service  by  so  much 
money — is  that  to  be  a  Christian  ?  Is  it  to  be  even  a  large-minded 
man  of  the  world  ?  But  too  often  men  feel  that  there  is  no  further 
duty  incumbent  upon  them ;  that  they  may  procure  the  services  of 
men  for  just  as  little  requital  as  possible;  that,  having  engaged  them 
to  perform  certain  duties,  they  are  at  liberty  to  put  on  the  screw  of 
requisition  just  as  severely  as  they  can ;  and  that,  in  discharging  their 
part  of  the  obligation,  they  are  to  pay  to  the  penny  what  they  agree 
to  i^ay,  but  are  not  called  upon  to  return  any  thing  of  generosity  or 
sympathy. 

Under  such  circumstances,  men,  feeling  that  they  are  men,  are 
perpetually  tempted  by  this  rigorous  and  exacting  course,  by  this 
mechanism  of  justice,  to  take  advantage.  They  very  soon  come  to 
feel,  "If  this  man  does  not  care  for  me,  why  should  I  care  for  him? 
If  my  interests  are  nothing  to  him,  then  his  interests  are  nothir.g  to 
me.  If  he  measures  just  so  much  service  by  so  much  money,  then 
I  will  measure  just  so  much  money  by  so  much  service."  And  after 
a  time  there  comes  to  be  a  system  of  suppressed  warfare  between 
the  employer  and  the  emj^loyed.  We  see  it  break  out  in  a  thousand 
forms.  It  exists  throughout  society  where  Christian  feeling  does 
not  produce  a  different  and  a  better  result.  And  it  will  go  on. 
Nothing  but  a  larger  Christian  idea  and  practice  will  save  us  from 
more  violent  ruptures  than  any  that  have  yet  taken  place.  For  infe- 
rior men  in  inferior  stations  will  be  tempted  to  deceit,  and  will  practice 
deceit.  They  will  cover  up  facts.  They  will  resort  to  false  pretences. 
They  will  give  short  work  for  their  wages.  They  will  count  every  man 
that  is  superior  to  them  as  in  some  sense  their  enemy  ;  and  their  supe- 
riors will  be  all  the  time  treating  them  as  if  they  were  in  some  sense 
their  enemies.  Society  is  organized  like  two  camps ;  and  the  two  parties 
are  watching  each  other  perpetually.  Fear,  dislike,  and  avarice  are 
their  weapons.  How  far  is  this  from  that  large  Christian  feeling  which 
regards  every  man  as  a  brother,  and  every  man,  before  God,  in  some 
sense,  as  an  equal ! 

The  moral  mischief  which  grows  out  of  this  we  are  to  look  upon 
as  a  matter  of  political  economy;  but  to-night  I  am  treating  it 
merely  as  a  process  by  which,  unconsciously  without  reflection,  men 


TEE  GRIME  OF  DEGRADING   MEN.  363 

are  damaging  tlie  whole  moral  character  of  those  Avhom  they  employ, 
and  by  which  are  carried  out  those  tendencies  which  are  utterly  in- 
consistent, on  both  sides,  with  a  true,  genuine  Christian  feeling.  Breth- 
ren, if  you  would  stand  in  the  position  of  an  agent  between  the  em- 
ployer and  the  employed,  and  hear  both  sides,  I  think  there  would  be  a 
revelation  made  to  you.  If  you  live  among  the  employers,  you  hear  the 
faults  of  the  employed  ;  and  if  you  live  among  the  employed,  you  hear 
the  faults  of  the  employers.  A  man  needs  to  be  a  "  middle  man,"  a 
man  whose  business  it  is  to  furnish  labor,  and  hear  the  statements  of 
the  employer  and  the  employed,  each  from  his  own  stand-point,  to  see 
what  a  condition  society  is  in,  and  how  far  our-economies  and  social 
organizations  are  from  attaining  the  very  first  principles  of  Christian 
life.  Society,  as  it  is  conducted,  is  wrong,  by  reason  of  selfishness, 
of  pride,  of  want  of  love. 

3.  By  the  inconsiderate  use  of  our  liberty  we  are  in  danger  of 
causing  men  to  oflend,  and  of  essentially  damaging  human  nature. 
As  society  is  made  up  of  difierent  classes,  and  as  these  classes  have 
different  advantages,  some  are  more  and  some  are  less  informed  than 
others.  In  a  loving  Christian  family,  which  is  the  true  type  of  a  ge- 
nerous commonwealth,  all  things  gravitate  to  the  cradle.  If  you 
can  sing,  then  you  have  a  song  for  the  baby.  If  you  can  frolic,  then 
you  must  frolic  with  the  baby.  If  you  are  expert  in  making  merri- 
ment, the  baby  must  have  the  advantage  of  it.  If  the  cliild  is  sick, 
the  grown  folks  are  the  ones  to  be  still.  Evei'y  thing  at  the  top  goes 
to  the  bottom  in  the  realm  of  love.  But  in  society  it  is  the  reverse. 
If  a  man  is  wise,  he  thinks  all  ignorant  folks  must  follow  his  lead 
and  beck.  If  a  man  is  refined,  he  sits  in  judgment  on  all  vulgar  and 
unrefined  people.  A  man  in  the  kingdom  of  love  goes  down  to 
serve  by  the  amount  of  superiority  which  he  has,  hearing  always, 
in  his  own  moral  nature,  Christ  saying  to  him,  "Ye  that  would  be 
first,  become  the  servants  of  the  rest" — which  is  the  true  law.  But 
in  the  kingdom  of  this  world  men  put  the  crown  on  their  own  heads, 
because  they  are  so  strong,  and  look  to  the  weak  to  come  and  serve 
them.  They  put  the  laurel  on  their  head,  and  are  angry  with  their 
fellow-men  because  they  do  not  chant  their  praises.  And  so  men  use 
their  liberty  as  a  means  of  oppressing  their  fellow-men. 

There  are  a  thousand  ways  in  which  this  is  done  ;  but  those  ways 
in  which  the  strong  lead  those  who  are  weak  into  temptation  and 
mischief,  are  the  cruel  ways.  Persons  resent  very  much,  frequently, 
the  intrusion  upon  their  liberty,  when  it  is  said,  "  You  ought  not,  in 
this  community,  to  play  cards."  A  card  is  nothing.  In  itself,  it  is 
no  more  than  a  piece  of  newspapei*.  A  game  of  cards  is  just  as  in- 
nocent as  a  game  of  checkers ;  and  a  game  of  checkers  is  just  as  in- 
nocent as  a  game  of  backgammon.     They  are  innocent  in  and  of 


364  TEE   CBIME   OF  DEGRADING   MEN. 

themselves,  and  are  perfectly  permissible  in  the  majority  of  families 
here  among  ourselves;  but  there  are  circumstances  and  places  ia 
which  they  are  prejudicial,  and  you  could  not  go  and  sit  and  play  a 
game  of  cards,  being  known  as  a  professor  of  religion,  without  pro- 
ducing the  impression  among  the  young  people  that  they  might  do  it. 
And  they,  by  reason  of  loose  instruction  and  narrow  views,  have  the 
impression,  also,  that  if  they  may  play  cards,  they  may  gamble,  and 
drink  wine,  and  give  away  to  dissipation  in  a  multitude  of  ways.  It 
may  be  perfectly  harmless  to  you,  and  you  may  say,  "  If  every  one 
would  do  as  I  do,  what  harm  would  there  be  in  playing  cards?" 
But  they  can  not  do  as  you  do. 

Suppose  there  was  a  man  six  feet  high,  and  a  stream  five  feet  deep, 
and  he  had  twenty  little  children  following  him,  and  he  should  go  in 
and  wade  across,  saying,  "  If  these  children  will  wade  as  I  wade, 
none  of  them  will  be  carried  away "  ?  But  they  can  not,  because 
they  have  not  long  legs  like  his. 

There  are  men  that  are,  for  various  reasons,  able  to  do  things 
which  those  round  about  them  are  not  able  to  do,  and  will  perish  in 
the  doing ;  and  yet  these  men  go  heedlessly  on  doing  these  things,  and 
saying,  "  Oh  !  if  they  will  only  do  as  we  do,  they  will  not  be  harmed  !" 
That  is,  you  arrogant,  selfish  men  are  taking  the  liberty  that  God 
gave  you  to  despotize  over  those  that  are  round  about  you.  If  one  or  the 
other  must  give  way,  you  must.  If  you  are  enlightened,  and  are 
strong,  and  you  can  do  these  things  without  harm,  remember  that 
you  are  in  the  midst  of  those  who  can  not  do  them  without  harm. 

There  are  many  persons  who,  in  the  same  way,  use  their  liberty 
in  religion.  I  never  go  into  a  Catholic  church ;  though  I  have  no 
fear  that  I  should  be  injured  by  it.  I  never  take  holy  water ;  though 
I  might  and  not  be  harmed  by  it.  I  never  cross  myself,  that  I  am 
aware  of.  I  have  no  objections  to  it.  I  would  just  as  lief  cross  myself 
as  not.  There  is  no  harm  in  it.  But  I  have  a  servant  in  my  family  who 
was  brought  up  a  devout  Catholic ;  and  sujjpose  that  I  use  my  in- 
fluence against  these  things,  and  say,  "They  are  a  superstition.  Do 
not  touch  that  water.  Do  not  make  the  sign  of  the  cross."  I  have 
not  given  her  my  broad  ground  to  stand  on ;  I  Jiave  put  nothing  in 
the  place  of  that  which  I  have  taken  from  her ;  I  have  simply  called 
that  superstition  which  she  has  been  taught  to  believe  is  a  part  of 
religion,  and  which  to  her  impression  is  as  necessary  as  any  later  stage 
of  development.  I  take  away  from  her  that  which  is  a  kind  of  re- 
ligion to  her,  and  substitute  nothing  for  it.  And  she  does  not  cross 
herself  any  more  ;  she  does  not  read  her  book  of  devotion  any  more. 
I  break  her  oiF  from  her  j^riest,  and  do  not  graft  her  on  to  any  minis- 
ter. I  take  her  away  from  her  church,  and  she  does  not  want  mine. 
I  have  taken  away  ier  beliefs,  and  have  given  her  no  other  beliefs. 


TEE  GRIME  OF  DEGRADING  MEN.  365 

I  have  cut  up  her  religion,  root  and  branch,  and  have  put  nothing  in 
the  place  of  it. 

I  see  jDCople  in  the  community  who  are  like  the  newly  cleared  lands 
in  the  West,  where  all  the  huge  forest  growth  is  cut  oif,  and  there  is 
nothing  but  stamps,  and  there  is  no  room  for  a  new  cro^:),  and  all  is 
bleak  and  barren.  The  religion  that  they  had  has  been  taken  away, 
and  nothing  remains  but  a  barren  waste. 

Now,  because  you  see  that  a  man  is  in  error,  do  not  follow  him 
and  pluck  that  error  up  by  the  roots,  until  you  are  ready  to  put  some- 
thing in  its  place.  I  would  rather  see  a  good  Catholic  than  a  poor 
Protestant,  any  day.  I  do  not  say  that  I  do  not  think  that  it  would 
be  better  for  men  if  they  would  come  off  from  their  ground  on  to 
mine ;  but  I  do  say  that,  so  long  as  they  are  on  their  ground,  it  is 
better  to  helj)  them  where  they  are  than  to  suddenly  wrest  them  from 
that  ground.  It  is  not  so  much  change  in  belief  as  growth  in  immor- 
tality that  is  needed.  Men  ought  to  be  better  where  they  are.  For 
there  is  not  a  single  chui'ch  on  the  globe  that  has  not  truth  and  piety 
enough  in  it  to  save  a  mac's  soul,  if  he  is  only  faithful  to  the  light 
that  he  has. 

Let  us  not  use  our  liberty  to  destroy  those  who  are  weaker  in  faith 
and  in  intelligence  than  we  are.  If  priests  are  afraid  to  let  their  peoj^le 
come  to  this  church,  then  they  do  not  understand  me.  I  have  never  said 
a  word  against  any  other  church,  that  I  know  of,  since  I  have  been  a 
minister.  I  criticise  beliefs  freely,and  always  Avill ;  but  I  never  lifted  my 
hand  to  proselyte  a  person.  I  never  strove  to  take  a  j^erson  out  of  one 
religion  and  put  him  into  another.  The  kingdom  of  Christ  is  not  pro- 
fited by  such  a  process,  any  more  than  I  am  by  taking  a  ten-dollar 
bill  out  of  one  pocket  and  putting  it  into  another.  It  may  serve  my 
vanity,  it  may  gratify  the  carnal  feelings  of  God's  so-called  disciples  ; 
but  it  is  not  wise  nor  right.  I  never  have  done  it,  and  I  never  will 
do  it.  Therefore,  if  children  are  sent  here  to  me,  it  is  not  my  fault  if 
they  wish  to  come  into  this  church.  They  may  wish  to  or  they  may 
not,  according  to  their  growth  and  development  in  moral  life.  My 
only  aim  is  to  send  them  back  to  whence  they  came  with  more 
conscience ;  with  more  love  ;  with  more  faith  in  God ;  with  more  de- 
voutness ;  with  more  fervent  regard  for  the  rights  of  universal  human 
nature. 

4.  Men  deteriorate  their  fellow-men,  and  weaken  society,  by  such 
conduct  as  puts  men  in  their  commercial  intercourse  into  very  tempt- 
ing relations  to  each  other.  I  am  afraid  there  is  not  much  preach- 
ing on  the  subject  of  the  relative  duties  of  buyer  and  seller ;  of 
manufacturer  and  consumer ;  but  there  is  a  great  kingdom  of  duty 
here,  which  of  course  I  can  only  glance  at,  though  it  is  worthy  of 
analysis  with  innumerable  particulars.     I  look  upon  the  ways  of  men 


366  TEE  CRIME   OF  DEGRADING   MEN. 

in  this  regard  as  being  iDeculiarly  unchristian.  It  ought  to  be  so  that 
a  little  child  could  take  in  its  hand  a  sum  of  money,  and  go  to  any 
store  for  a  commodity,  and  hand  that  money  over  the  counter,  and, 
telling  what  it  wants,  receive  an  article  as  much  better  than  its  own 
uninstructed  judgment  could  choose  as  the  knowledge  of  the  mer- 
chant is  superior  to  its  knowledge  ;  but  I  am  afraid  it  would  not  be 
safe  to  go  shopping  in  that  way.  I  am  afraid  that  if  you  were  no 
judge  of  material,  and  bought  accordingly,  you  would  have  poor  gar- 
ments. I  am  afraid  that  if  you  had  no  judgment  of  pi-ices,  you  would 
pay  inordinately  for  many  things.  These  merchants,  these  men  that 
Bell  goods — how  many  pretences  they  weave  !  What  poor  articles, 
with  what  a  good  face,  do  they  palm  off  on  their  customers  !  How 
they  suppress  the  truth  !  How  they  indulge  in  over-praising  or  under- 
valuing, as  the  case  may  be  !  How  much  there  is  of  systematic  com- 
mercial deceit,  and  wrong-doing  through  it ! 

But  do  not  slander  the  merchant.  I  think  it  is  the  front  part  of 
the  counter  that  corrupts  the  back  part.  Now  and  then,  in  the  mer- 
cantile business,  just  as  in  any  other  relation,  there  are  men  who 
incline  to  fraud,  to  guile ;  but  ordinarily  men  that  sell  are  perverted 
by  the  men  that  buy.  You  go  forth  hunting  for  a  merchant  out  of 
•whom  you  can  get  a  "  bargain."  What  is  a  bargain  ?  A  true  bar- 
gain is  that  transaction  in  which  you  render  an  eqiuvalent  for  what 
you  get — in  which  you  give  that  which  is  worth  as  much  as  that 
which  you  receive.  But  what  you  call  a  bargain,  is  going  out  and 
finding  some  one  with  whom  you  can  trade,  so  that  you  can  come 
home  conscious  that  you  have  got  five  times  as  much  as  you  have 
given.  And  strange  as  it  may  seem,  men  take  pride  in  this  thing  ! 
It  is  part  purpose,  and  part  excitement. 

For  instance,  you  go  into  the  store  of  a  man  who  keeps  musical 
instruments  for  sale.  He  has  an  old  violin.  It  is  cracked,  and  has 
been  meaded.  You  take  it  and  go  to  the  light,  and  looking  down 
through  the  opening,  you  see,  "  Amati,  1695."  You  say  to  the  man, 
"How  much  is  this?"  He  says,  "Twenty  dollars."  You  take  it. 
Only  twenty  dollars  !  You  tremble  for  fear  he  will  look  again.  You 
go  home  with  your  "  Amati,"  and  say,  "  That  violin  is  worth  five 
hundred  dollars,  and  I  would  not  take  two  hundred  in  gold  for  it !" 
"  How  much  did  it  cost  you  ?"  "  Guess."  And  you  sit  expectant  like 
one  waiting  for  his  crown  !  At  last  you  say,  "  I  only  gave  twenty 
dollars  for  it !"  "  No,  you  don't  mean  that  ?"  "  It  is  a  fact ;  that  is 
all  it  cost  me."  And  how  happy  you  are !  And  you  show  that  vio- 
lin the  rest  of  your  life,  congratiilating  yourself  that  it  was  worth 
four  or  five  hundred  dollars,  and  that  you  got  it  for  twenty.  That 
is  to  say,  you  stole  all  the  difference  between  what  you  got  it  for 
and  what  it  was  worth  j  and  God  will  judge  you  so ! 


THE  CRIME  OF  DEGRADING   MEN.  367 

Ah  but !  as  men  say,  frequently,  "  There  is  a  trick  worth  two  of 
that."  That  violin  was  doctored  and  fixed  up  on  purpose  to  deceive, 
and  it  was  not  worth  ten  dollars.  The  man  that  sold  you  that  instru- 
ment was  happy  too;  and  as  you  left  his  store,  he  chuckled  and  said, 
"I  got  that  violin  for  a  dollar  and  a  half,  and  that  man  thinks  it  is  an 
Amati !" 

Are  men  worms  ?  Is  life  but  a  scene  of  crawling  and  biting  ? 
Is  bargaining  but  this  ignoble  coining  of  the  depraved  feelings? 
And  is  that  what  the  blood  of  Christ  has  produced  in  you  ?  Have 
eighteen  hundred  years  of  Christian  teaching  come  to  this,  that  pi*o- 
fessors  of  religion  start  out  in  the  morning  to  see  who  can  be  the 
sharpest  over  the  counter,  who  can  pay  the  least  money  and  get  the 
most  goods,  or  who  can  take  the  most  money  and  give  the  least 
goods  ?  Is  not  this  a  part  of  the  play  of  life  ?  Do  not  men  go  out 
shopping  just  as  men  go  out  fishing  or  hunting,  to  see  how  much 
game  they  can  get?  Do  not  men  pride  themselves  on  their  being 
shrewd  in  their  dealings  ?  Are  not  clerks  bothered  and  provoked  ? 
and  do  not  they  know  that  if  such  persons  come  into  their  store  they 
must  fall  from  their  price,  or  not  sell  ?  and  therefore  do  not  they 
put  their  price  so  high  that  they  can  afibrd  to  fall?  And  thus  are 
they  not  taught  guile  ?  And  are  not  persons  that  i>ractice  this  kind 
of  traffic  often  members  of  the  church  and  persons  that  have  a  great 
deal  of  moral  excellence  ?  Notwithstanding  all  their  virtues,  they  are 
Bo  inconsiderate  in  these  things  that  they  damage  their  own  conscien- 
ces, and  damage  the  consciences  of  their  fellow-men,  and  fill  the  rela- 
tions of  commerce  with  the  most  pernicious  and  unchristian  feelings. 
If  it  is  a  capital  ofi'ence  for  a  man  to  hurt  so  much  as  a  little  child, 
what  punishment  is  there  that  they  will  not  incur  who  give  all  their 
life-long  to  damaging  every  man,  right  and  left,  that  they  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  ? 

5.  Avarice — and  that,  too,  in  its  most  ignoble  forms — is  continu- 
ally tempting  so-called  good  men  to  the  injury  of  their  fellow-men. 
Perhaps  you  have  noticed  in  some  New-York  paj^ers  an  investigation, 
that  has  been  quietly  carried  on  as  to  the  weights  and  measures  and 
qualities  and  adulterations  of  things  sold.  I  suppose  the  practice  of 
adulterating  food,  and  medicine  even,  is  carried  on  to  an  alarming 
extent.  I  suppose  many  a  patient  dies  that  would  be  saved  if  it  were 
not  that  the  medicines  given  are  rendered  of  no  value  whatever,  by 
adulteration.  If  you  could  see  how  much  corruption  there  is  in  this 
regard,  I  think  you  would  be  almost  afraid  to  deal  with  men  in  society. 

It  is  not,  however,  your  injury  in  pocket,  or  your  injury  in  stomach, 
that  I  am  now  considering :  what  I  am  considering  is  the  fact  that 
man  should  allow  in  their  business  this  element  of  fraud ;  that  they 
should  train  not  only  themselves,  but  their  clerks,  their  correspon- 


368  THE   CRIME   OF  DEGRADING   MEN. 

dents,  those  from  whcm  you  buy,  those  to  whom  they  sell,  every  body 
with  whom  they  have  to  do,  to  a  species  of  deception. 

Now,  when  a  man  sells  eleven  ounces  for  twelve,  he  makes  a  com- 
jiact  with  the  devil,  and  sells  himself  for  the  value  of  an  ounce  !  And 
that  is  not  all ;  he  sells  himself  to  as  many  devils  as  tlie  number  of 
times  that  he  sells  eleven  ounces  for  twelve !  I  do  not  say  that  they 
undervalue  themselves  in  such  a  sale  as  this.  I  think  that  they  do 
not,  ordinarily !  But  consider  what  a  man  will  do  for  the  sake  of  a  few 
pence.  How  such  a  man  can  look  at  himself  in  a  glass,  or  bear  to  be 
alone  with  himself,  I  can  not  imagine.  A  man  that  practices  this  sys- 
tem of  petty  frauds,  in  which  he  has  trained  his  young  men,  his  cor- 
respondents, all  that  are  connected  with  him  in  business,  making 
them  lawful,  covering  them  over  so  that  they  shall  not  excite  alarm, 
and  weaving  nets  and  excuses  to  hide  them ;  a  man  that  goes  on  in 
this  course  from  week  to  week,  damaging  and  damaging  peopile  while 
he  enriches  himself  all  the  way  through — do  you  suppose  that  such  a 
man  can  enter  the  kingdom  of  God  ?  Would  it  not  be  kind  if  some  angel 
were  to  sound  the  trumpet  in  his  ear  every  single  day,  saying,  "  It 
were  better  that  a  millstone  should  be  hanged  about  thy  neck,  than 
that  thou  shouldst  have  made  this  jDrofit  by  such  means"  ?  And  will 
there  not  come  a  time  when  every  penny  wrung  from  the  trembling, 
palsied  hand  of  the  poor  Avidow,  Avhen  every  diminished  loaf,  when 
every  adulterated  article  of  food  or  drink  or  medicine,  when  every 
act  of  fraud  or  cheating,  shall  rise  up  in  judgment  against  him,  and 
dollar  after  dollar  that  he  has  gained  in  unlawful  ways  shall  cry  out, 
"  Slay  him  !  slay  him !"  Yet  this  would  be  a  small  retribution.  It 
is  the  souls  slain  by  him  that  will  rise  up  in  that  day  and  say,  "  Thou 
didst  teach  me  those  damnable  frauds,  and  I  am  ruined  !" 

Do  you  believe  in  a  hereafter !  Do  you  believe  in  a  judgment- 
seat  !  Do  you  believe  that  your  victims  and  pupils  will  meet  you 
there  face  to  face,  and  that  God  will  tear  away  all  disguises,  and  that 
you  will  see  things  as  they  are  ? 

6.  There  is- another  relation  (for  since  we  have  the  dissecting-table 
to-night,  and  are  using  the  knife  in  morbid  anatomy,  we  may  as  well 
go  to  the  very  root  of  things) — there  is  another  relation  in  Avhich 
I  perceive  that  great  damage  is  done  by  men  i:)rofessing  godliness  as 
well  as  men  professing  honesty,  though  not  avowedly  Christian,  by 
the  injustice  which  lurks  and  is  almost  inlierent  in  their  vanity. 
There  are  very  few  men  who  have  such  essential  justice  in  their  very 
nature  that  they  can-  say  that  they  do  not  want  any  thing  that  is  not 
their  own,  nor  any  more  than  their  own,  nor  any  other  than  their 
own.  There  are  very  few  men  who  have  that  native  good  sense — I 
might  almost  call  it  grace — by  wliich  they  say,  "  I  do  not  want  to 
appear  any  better  than  I  am."     There  is  not  one  person  in  a  thousand 


TEE  CRIME  OF  DEGRADING  MEN.  369 

that  does  not  want  to.  Indeed,  Ave  almost  never  consider,  or  are 
taught  to  consider,  that  in  the  matter  of  dress,  many  of  us  are  all  our 
lives  long  seeking  to  appear  better  than  we  can  afford  to  appear.  Of 
course,  when  persons  are  wealthy,  they  can  afford  to  dress  to  any 
degree  either  of  ostentation  or  richness,  as  the  case  may  be  ;  but  all  the 
Avay  down  are  those  that  are  not  able,  and  are  not  content  not  .o  do  it. 
And  so  people  want  better  goods  than  they  can  afford  to  wear. 

This  is  not  equitable.  You  can  not  afford  to  wear  any  better 
clothes  than  you  can  afford  to  pay  foi*.  It  is  a  mark  of  true  nobility 
for  a  young  man  to  come  into  the  city,  and  be  introduced,  it  may  be, 
into  his  employer's  family,  and  stand  up  without  blushing,  in  hisj^lain 
home-made  coat,  and  say,  "  I  can  not  afford  any  thing  better.  I  must 
be  an  honest  man,  whatever  I  am,  I  can  not  afford  it,  and  I  shall 
not  have  it."  But  oh !  how  few  there  are  that  can  do  that !  Young 
men  feel  that  they  must  have  that  which  shall  make  them  look  like 
their  companions.     And  what  is  the  result,  too  often  ? 

In  a  large  establishment  in  N"ew-York,  a  book-keeper  in  whom 
was  reposed  unbounded  trust  was  found,  at  last,  to  be  a  defaulter, 
and  to  have  appropriated  money  from  the  establishment  to  his  own 
use.  Why?  "Was  it  drinking  ?  Was  it  any  lustful  dissipation  !  No. 
He  had  been  made  the  leading  member  of  a  literary  society,  among 
rich  people,  and  he  had  to  live  as  they  did  with  whom  his  "  happy 
lot "  was  cast.  He  had  to  dress  better  than  his  circumstances  would 
warrant.  He  had  to  pay  many  little  incidental  expenses.  He  had 
not  the  money ;  and  yet  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation.  So  he 
stole  the  money  ;  he  was  found  out ;  and  he  lost  his  place.  I  do  not 
know  what  has  become  of  him.  How  dress,  as  in  this  instance,  often 
tempts  men  !    This  is  one  reason  why  the  young  should  be  instructed. 

You  wish  to  dress  your  wife  better  than  your  circumstances  will 
allow.  She  wants  to  have  you.  She  is  a  woman  of  spirit,  as  it  is 
said,  and  she  does  not  mean  to  be  a  drudge.  "  Why  should  our 
neighbors,"  she  says  to  her  husband,  "  dress  any  better  than  we  ? 
They  are  made  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood  that  we  are.  See  how 
they  come  out.  I  don't  think  a  man  of  any  spirit  would  let  his  wife 
and  children  go  to  church  dressed  as  you  let  us  go.  Look  at  these 
children.  You  would  think  that  they  had  just  come  out  of  some  slop- 
house  !  If  I  had  married  as  I  tnight  have  married,  we  should  have 
had  different  times — I  and  my  children  !"  How  many  men  are  stung 
to  the  qiiick  by  such  remarks  from  their  wives !  Oftentimes  their 
moral  sense  revolts,  at  first,  and  they  feel  indignation  ;  but "  continual 
dropping  wears  a  stone  ;"  and  by  and  by  the  man  is  dressed  a  little 
better  than  he  can  afford,  and  his  wife  and  children  are  dressed  better 
than  he  can  afford ;  and  somebody  must  pay  for  the  extravagance.  I 
do  not  say  that  they  aretemistedto  steal ;  but  I  do  say  that  they  (/rm^?. 


370  THE   CRIME   OF  DEGRADING   MEN. 

They  mean  somehow  to  get  it  out  of  the  milliner,  out  of  the  dress 
maker,  or  out  of  the  merchant.  They  intend  to  make  one  hand  wash 
the  other  somehow,  and  they  go  into  petty  meannesses  to  bring  it 
about.  And  this  desire  to  dress  better  than  they  can  afford  is  taking 
off  the  very  enamel  of  their  virtue,  and  taking  out  the  very  stamina 
of  their  religious  life.  Unimportant  as  it  seems,  ostentatious  vanity 
in  dress  has  ruined  many  a  family,  and  damned  many  a  sotd  ! 

The  same  principle  it  is  that  largely  corrupts  trade.  A  man  wants 
to  build.  He  has  money  enough  to  build  three  houses ;  but  he  wants 
to  build  five.  He  gets  bids.  And  when  it  is  understood  what  he 
wants  to  do,  men  say  to  him,  "  You  can  not  build  five  houses  with 
that  amount  of  money.  Brick  are  so  much,  lumber  is  so  much,  and 
work  is  so  much  a  day,  and  it  will  cost  more  than  you  propose  to  lay 
out."  But  the  man  is  determined  to  build  five  houses  with  his  money, 
and  he  gets  other  bids ;  and  by  and  by  he  finds  a  man  that  is  willing 
to  undertake  the  job  on  the  terms  offered.  The  five  houses  are  built ; 
and  they  are  built  for  that  money.  How  is  it  done  ?  By  a  system 
of  cheating — for  builders  are  smart  enough  very  often  to  make  a  man 
build  five  houses  where  he  ought  to  build  but  three.  The  man  that 
builds  them  is  smarter  than  the  man  that  employs  him  to  build  them. 
The  latter  does  not  know  how  the  foundations  are  laid  ;  he  does  not 
know  how  the  partitions  are  filled  up ;  he  does  not  know  how  the 
plumbing  is  done,  or  how  the  glazing  is  done.  There  is  a  system  of 
cheating  and  deceiving  j^racticed  all  through,  from  the  first  stone  in 
the  foundation  to  the  last  shingle  on  the  roof  The  man  meant  to  cheat 
the  builder,  and  the  builder  cheated  him.  And  every  tenant  that  goes 
into  the  house  will  pay  for  it. 

And  that  which  takes  place  in  the  building  of  the  house  takes 
place  in  the  furnishing  of  the  house.  All  the  way  through,  men  want 
more  than  is  just.  They  are  avaricious,  and  they  seek  to  get  all  they 
can  out  of  other  men.  And  they  propagate  this  spirit  wherever  they 
have  influence;  audit  goes  ramifying  itself  through  all  trades  and 
avocations  in  society.  It  is  a  desperate  state  of  things;  and  the 
worst  of  it  is,  not  its  relation  to  political  economy,  but  its  moral  resiilt, 
which  takes  the  tone  out  of  true  manhood.  You  can  not  tell  where 
those  influences  which  demoralize  labor,  and  invalidate  honesty  and 
fair-dealing  between  man  and  man,  will  stop.  You  can  not  tell  how 
fiir  that  wave  which  you  set  in  motion  will  go,  or  on  what  shore  it 
will  break. 

Men  and  brethren,  am  I  speaking  at  random  ?  Am  I  not  telling 
things  that  you  know  better  than  I  ?  Can  you  not,  in  looking  in 
the  store  or  in  the  shop,  think  of  some  whose  cases  I  have  described  ? 
Have  you  not  been  partners  to  a  greater  or  less  extent  in  the  wrong 
courses  which  I  have  exposed  ?     Can  you  not  bear  witness  that  I  am 


TEE  CRIME   OF  DEORADING   MEN.  371 

8p(;aki\  ;g  the  truth,  and  that  men  in  all  avocations  are  violating  not 
only  the  spirit,  but  the  letter  of  the  law  of  love?  Are  they  not  caus- 
ing God's  little  ones  to  offend — to  stumble  headlong  into  temptation 
and  into  woes  ? 

It  is  monstrous  !  It  is  awful !  And  unless  there  is  a  higher 
standard  of  Christian  morals  quickly  adopted,  I  know  not  what  is  to 
become  of  this  nation,  in  the  augmentation  of  its  power,  and  in  the 
increase  of  its  wealth.  If  avarice  is  to  increase  in  the  same  ratio  that 
it  has  increased,  we  shall  soon  be  consumed. 

I  will  not  speak  of  the  intentional  misleadings  which  go  on  in 
society,  and  of  which  there  are  many.  I  will  stay  the  further  j^rog- 
ress  of  this  discussion  in  its  special  applications,  only  to  set  before 
you,  in  the  closing  time  that  I  have,  the  consideration  of  the  value  of 
man  in  the  sight  of  God. 

You  are  blinded  ;  and  many  of  your  mistakes  arise  from  the  fact 
that  you  take  your  estimate  of  men  as  you  find  them  in  society.  We 
judge  of  a  man's  worth  by  what  he  can  do.  "We  speak  of  a  man  as 
we  do  of  goods  ;  and  we  speak  of  goods  as  being  worth  more  or  less 
according  to  what  they  will  bring  in  the  market.  'We  measure  a 
man's  value  by  his  position.  We  are  not  taught  to  think  of  men  in 
regard  to  their  intrinsic  relations  to  God,  nor  in  regard  to  their  adap- 
tability to  indefinite  and  eternal  intercourse.  The  glory  of  man- 
hood is  never  seen  in  this  world.  What  a  man  is,  you  would  not  sus- 
pect from  what  you  see  of  him  here.  Our  smmner  is  too  short  and 
too  cold  for  that.  Men  do  not  blossom  on  the  earth — at  any  rate,  in 
their  higher  attributes.  They  live  unknown  and  almost  unseen,  and 
die  almost  unwept  and  unlamented,  to  rise  into  a  better  spheve, 
where  they  begin,  under  more  auspicious  circumstances,  to  take  on  a 
dignity  and  proportion  of  which  we  have  no  conception  here.  You 
damage  a  man  here  because  he  is  of  little  value  to  society,  and  he 
passes  from  your  sight,  and  you  think  no  more  of  him ;  but  when 
you  see  him  again,  he  shall  be  a  pi'ince  before  God.  And  Christ 
says,  warning  you,  "  The  last  shall  be  first,  and  the  first  shall  be  last." 

The  overswollen  man  that  makes  you  a  parasite  and  a  flatterer; 
the  man  who,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  wields  a  power  that 
makes  you  bow  down  and  envy  his  prosperity — that  man  by  and  by 
will  die  ;  and  the  empty  pageant  of  his  funeral  will  pass  away  as  an 
echo ;  and  you  will  rise  and  stand  before  God  ere  long,  and  see  him, 
(if  there  is  enough  of  him  left  to  see,  when  he  is  separated  from  his 
money,)  and  you  will  scarcely  know  him.  "  The  last  shall  be  first, 
and  the  first  shall  be  last." 

The  men  that  sway  their  sceptre  over  the  market,  when  once 
death  shall  touch  them,  will  be  like  mushrooms ;  and  the  man  that 


3T2 


THE  CRIME   OF  DEGRADING   NEN. 


not  one  can  be  found  to  follow — the  panper,  whose  home  here  is  soli- 
tary and  in  the  wilderness — will  be  a  crowned  prince  in  heaven. 

You  are  living  in  the  midst  of  terrible  realities.  But  lands,  and 
houses,  and  furniture,  and  ships,  and  goods,  and  governments — these 
are  not  the  realities.  These  are  transient.  The  little  child,  the  throb- 
bing heart  of  woman,  the  soul-nature  of  man — these  are  the  dur- 
able things  that  we  are  living  among.  We  are  casting  our  shadow 
upon  some  to  heal  them,  as  Peter  did.  Every  heart  beats  against 
some  other  heart.  Every  thought  is  as  the  sculptor's  chisel.  Every 
hour  you  hang  over  some  man  as  the  sun  hangs  over  the  earth,  either 
nourishing  some  poisonous  plant  in  the  tropic,  or  bringing  up  some 
generous  vine  in  the  temperate  zone.  Your  whole  life  is  a  mighty 
power  in  the  midst  of  the  various  elements  in  this  world ;  and  the 
command  of  the  Master  is,  "  Beware  !  beware  !  whoso  shall  cause  to 
err  the  poorest  man,  the  lowest  man,  the  least  man,  and  make  him 
"worse — it  were  better  for  him  that  a  millstone  were  hanged  about  his 
neck,  and  that  he  were  drowned  in  the  depth  of  the  sea." 

Down,  down,  down  goes  the  bubbling  wretch  around  whose  neck 
the  heavy  weight  is  placed  ;  and  yet,  at  last,  with  fainter  and  fxinter 
struggling  he  subsides  on  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  But  he  around 
whose  neck  God's  final  judgment  hangs  will  go  down  forever  and 
forever,  in  that  bottomless  pit  where  the  destroyers  of  men  are  them- 
selves destroyed  I 

— ♦ — 

PRATER    BEFORE    THE    SERMON. 

We  bless  thee,  our  Heavenly  Father,  for  all  the  help  which  thon  hast  vouchsafed  in  timea 
past,  and  for  those  great  and  precious  promises  which  thou  hast  made  for  the  future.  But  for 
the  hope  which  we  have  in  thee,  we  should  be  appalled  at  the  greatness  of  the  way  before  us.  So 
mighty  are  those  influences  which  draw  us  downward,  so  many  are  the  things  which  tend  to 
forgetfulness,  so  easy  is  it  in  prosperous  circumstances  to  become  self-indulgent,  so  do  our  very 
aft'cctions  twine  idolatrously  round  about  earthly  things,  that,  were  we  left  to  ourselves,  we  should 
all  of  us  sink  steadily  lower  and  lower,  until  the  thought  of  heaven  would  be  too  far  away  for 
influence— until  thou  thyself  wouldst  be  hidden  behind  the  cloud  of  all  thy  mercies.  As  the  sun 
that  drieth  up  the  vapor  from  the  earth  is  hidden  by  tliat  which  itself  hath  done  ;  so  thou  by  thy 
mercies  art  hidden,  filling  the  air  round  about  us  with  the  tokens  of  thy  goodness.  We  seize  upon 
the  things  that  are  good,  and  forget  the  giver.  And,  O  Lord  our  God  I  how  worse  are  we  thai- 
little  children,  with  their  folly  and  frivolity  and  ignorance  1  How  are  we,  in  all  things,  plunging, 
stumbling,  erring  through  ignorance,  through  untempered  passions,  through  evils  manifold  1  We 
implore  thy  forgiveness.  But  what  were  all  the  forgiveness  of  God  in  the  past,  if  we  are  afraid 
for  the  future.  "We  implore  even  more  thy  presence,  and  thine  inspiring  help.  Go  with  us  from 
step  to  step  in  all  our  future  lives,  and  give  us  a  clear  understanding,  a  sound  judgment,  and 
comprehensiveness  of  things  right  and  things  wrong.  And  grant  that  there  may  be  an  interpre- 
tation of  duty  in  our  very  nature,  that  we  may  become  so  sensitive  to  things  evil  or  good,  that  on 
the  one  hand  or  on  the  other,  we  shall  repel  or  draw  them.  And  may  we  walk  with  growing 
strength.  May  habit  supplement  desire.  May  we  thus  fortify  what  we  gain,  and  hol-1,  with  grow- 
ing strength,  steadfastly  on  unto  the  very  end  of  life. 

Deliver  us  from  the  evil  that  is  in  the  world.  May  we  not  seek  to  be  friends  of  this  world  in 
all  its  evil  aspects.  May  we  look  upon  it  as  our  field  of  labor.  There  may  we  delve,  and  sow, 
and  rear  the  immortal  harvest.  And  yet,  may  we  not  give  ourselves  to  it  as  our  chiefest  good, 
nor  be  seduced  by  its  pleasures,  nor  deceived  by  its  deceits.  Grant  that  we  may  walk  in  the  world 
as  not  abusing  it ;  as  in  it,  and  not  above  it.  And  as  our  experience  grows,  make  us  to  desire  that 
rest  which  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God.  Not  one  day  sooner  would  we  lay  aside  the  work 
and  the  harness  than  thou  dost  wish ;  yet  how  joyful  will  be  the  sound  when  thou  dost  call  for  us  ; 
when  thou  hast  need  of  us  in  some  higher  sphere  ;  when  thou  dost  desire  to  behold  us,  and  wilt 
permit  us  to  behold  thee  1  How  joyful  will  be  that  meeting,  if  our  souls  may  but  clasp  thee,  and 
call  thee  ours  I  ,,.  ..  ,,xi<.i.    i,,        , 

Grant  that  we  may  so  live  that  we  shall  have  a  vision  and  a  foretaste  of  that  blessed  rest 
which  belongs  to  the  heavenly  estate.  And  when  all  our  temptations  and  dangers  are  past,  and 
that  work  is  accomplished  which  it  is  our  duty  to  accomplish,  bring  us  to  the  end  of  life  joyfully 
and  assuredly,  that  we  may  go  out  singing  songs  of  victory,  and  rise  to  grander  songs  of  triumpn 
in  the  heavenly  land.  „  ,  „  .  .^       . 

And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise  of  our  salvation,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Amen. 


XXIV. 
SELF-CONCEIT    IN    MORALS. 


Bev.  Hknj:t  Wa?,o  Berohrb  om  "Thw  Horrea- 
HOLD."  Tlie  regular  leouire  of  tlie  Oia  Bay  Stats 
Course  was  delivered  in  Mneic  HaM,  fast  evening.  S»r 
Eev.  Henry  Ward  BeeoUer,  on  "Tiie  aouaoliolo." 
NotvFitlistaudiug  the  storm v  aid  disagreeable  condi- 
tion of  tl>e  went'her.  eveiy  i)avt  of  the  Urge  Uail  w.i^ 
crowded  to  vepJetioa. 

The  toUowing  report  of  tJie  lecture  is  from  tlie  15o.3toa 
Post: 

I  BOB  sorrv,  said  Mr.  Beecher  ia  commencement,  for 
any  man  to'w'uose  ear  there  is  in  tUe  Engiiah  tonscuo  :» 
sweeter  word  tbau''horae."  He  nas  had  a  sad  his- 
tory wlio  hears  no  music  in  it.  Giowtii  and  experience 
change  all  tMnps  but  a  mau'.s  opinions  of  hotue.  W^•) 
smile  St  our  childish  credulity  when  v/e  have  yiowu 
up.  We  exebnuKe  the  rea-soui'ues  of  enriv  life  foi  new 
philosophv.  We  may  call  our  iirst  faiths  fictions  and 
suptr.stitious;  bi\t  if  our  childhood  has  been  happy, 
we  never  change  our  thought  of  home.  Kven  in  old 
age,  when  all  thiiige  are  growing  dim,  and  flatues  ar<' 
come  to  coals  and  coals  are  turning  to  ashes,  the  lire 
unon  our  fathei's  hearth  is  still  burning.  The  secret 
of  this  expeiieuce  is  to  be  found  ouly  in  the  divine 
iiature  of  that  love  whose  seed  is  planted  in  chiUlUood. 
and  (iom  v.  hence  it  becomes  the  tree  of  life. 

It  has  alwavs  seemed  strauae  to  me  that  th3  noblest 
feeling  of  our  nature  is  at  the  same  time  shame-faced. 
Love  IS  as  wtl!  born  as  reason,  audis  farmore  comely,  i 
Its  wa\s  are  full  of  grace  and  beauty.  Poetry  aud  ro- 
mance choose  it  as  the  oue  theme  aboT3  all  others  of 
uTiiversal  grace,  aud  it  is  honored  by  every  living  soul. 
Aud  vet  the  dawu  of  love,  its  gentie  signs  and  symp- 
toms", its  veiy  wiicbing  beauty,  furnish  fo"d  for  mirth. 
It  is  not  so  with  the  rousih^  up  of  the  other  parts  of  the 
soul.  The  awakening  of  reason  excites  no  ridicule. 
Jlea  look  with  sobriety  upon  the  first  dawu  of  the  im- 
agination, upon  the  emotions  of  tlie  moral  sense.  It 
is  onlv  lUe  early  glow  of  love  thai  awakens  smiles  aud 
raillci-v.  Itis  riot  that  jt  is  simple  and  innocent.  It 
might  be  said  by  a  cynic  that  it  was  a  kind  of  revenge 
practiced  by  g:owii  i)eoi)le  for  having  been  deceived 
and  iooled  themselves;  but  there  are  some  who  have 
been  in  love  all  their  lives,  and  have  no  grudge  to 
avenge. 

The  characteristics  of  love  are  its  instinctive  secre- 
tiveness,  its  innocent  decept'ons  that  deceive  no  one, 
its  honof  able  shame,  its  tides  that  come  and  go  as  if 
the  whole  ocean  were  behind  tliem,  its  illustrious 
hopes, its  inspiration  of  poetry  and  ot  eloquence,  its 
geiieiosity  and  illimitable  romance.  Por  myself  there 
was  nothing  ludicrous  about  it.  it  was  very  natural. 
I  never  was  more  earnest  in  sny  life.  Others  might 
lai'gli— not  I.  But  then  the  point  of  view  makes  a 
great  difterence  in  the  picture.  I  gentle  raillery  give, 
but  no  contempt.  My  heart  goes  with  cveiy  good 
heart,  do  what  it  may.  I  never  see  two  noble  young 
hearts  in  love  that  I"  do  not  wisli  that  I  was  one  of 
them.  CLaughter,]  If  it  be  the  reason  of  our  mirth 
who  are  looking  on,  that  these  creatures  in  love  are  liv- 
ing in  a  vain  show,  are  creating  pliautoms,  are  admir- 
ing things  which  have  no  real  existt  nee,  aud  indulging 
in  hopes  which  all  experiences  have  shown  to  be  ex- 
travagauT,  if  not  impossible. 

Yet  is  it  not  an  extraordinaiy  testimony  to  the  dig- 
nity of  love  that  it  has  apower  so  magical ".'  What  other 
faculty  has  so  transforming  an  inlluence?  Lovo 
quickens  the  sense  of  oeautv  in  every  direction.  Mau, 
advanced  higher  up  upon  the  scale  of  being,  ^ives  a 
nobler  development  under  this  law  of  love.  If  ever, 
then  a  man  is  a  poet:  if  ever,  then  be  is  an  artist:  if 
music  is  in  him,  lie  will  sing  when  he  ia  in  love.  He 
studies  grace.  He  sees  reasons  in  ornaments  and 
charms  in  dress  that  he  never  saw  before.  .Still  more 
admirable  is  the  eifect  of  an  exalted  love  in  trans- 
foiming  all  things  which  it  looks  upon.  Everythiug 
seems  dift'ereat  in  the  object  of  our  afl'ectioii.  Lr.ve 
clothes  its  favoiite  with  charms  which  never  existed 
in  other  eves.  Tluis.Hkea  magician,  it  recreates  its 
object;  clothes  it  with  dazzling  radiance:  harmonizes 
evei-y  discord,  and  then  bows  down  and  worships. 

"Is  not  all  love,"  sav  men,  "a  reenactment  of  the 
history  of  Adam  and  Kve!"— first  paradise,  then  ex- 
pulsion into  a  world  cursed  with  thorns  and  briars. 
The  world  is  surely  full  of  such  experieucas.  There 
is  nothing  more  sad  than  the  diseaoiiantment  of  love. 
There  is  an  hour  in  mauy  a  noble  heart  full  of  de- 
spair. It  is  the  hour  when  the  visions  of  a  sacred 
love,  full  of  sanctity  and  holy  joy,  are  given  up,  and 
the  conviction  of  selfishness,  sordiduess  and  barren- 
ness of  life  flash  upon  liie  soul.  It  is  often  suid  to  the 
young.  "You  expect  too  much  in  love.  You  should 
moderateyuur  hopes.'  But  that  is  an  ertl  philosophy 
which  I  undervalues  the  glorious  jiower  of  a  truly 
noble  love. 

i  would  say  to  averv  generous  youth  that  joy  in  this 
Ufe  depends'more  upon  Wie  capacity  of  loving  than 
upon  any  other  single  quality.  We"  must  exalt  the 
imagination,  net  hcanble  it.  All  the  deceptions  injthe 
world  will  not  disprove  a  reality.  The  indifference 
often  found  in  wedded  life  only  shows  that  in  digging 
lor  diamonds  men  run  off  with" pebbles.  But  the  dia- 
monds  were  there,  if  they  had  known  how   to  ijn  I 


•uoan  peuQi  oq  u^o  pnu  'iepiJd  ptrn  Sv\> 
lanpOA^  'Awwnon  qoea  pajoajioo  si  j.rodaa  dAoqu  oqx 

•Kop  aot®fl8  saupjaH  poi^ion  puB  pasiocns  '.ivH  ,15  T8 
lejs.Co  :;b  00s  sSnRqrsnf)  Sib.'sr.'pnos  'sutuio  tqi  O0l®8 
BUD '-qioer.  ^uqiitiH  ;qi  O0'@11=^opi>eH  !<tl"8P03!>U 
iZ.  ■aovaxMft  paiJjOkj  tqi  oypujoi  e(.j-q  '.zop  u<;ZCo);il  sisij 
?0J»  '.%b  oof  edotlBas  qs9.iji  tin  06I@!)I  tp.WJ  ajiqw  tqi 
at-jeisqoq  :qi  ocf  op  BJ^x^  tqt  Ofi?,  siiams  :qi  9Q7®M 
uGJioirl  'iVsK  ain  io  uosBOS  Bjqj  4«  jaJiJBia  ui  iiiwajn 
31101j"ba  n{  qsrf  qsaaj  jo  Xjidjbos  inu  lou  si  o.taq.L 
jOUBJBeddB  iiaq;  op^m  hibsb  aAtiq  qotja  oos*^iaJ9 
Jioiiuinsajj  aaa«i  .JO  ah  idsjp  jibj  v    "^.y  'm\.T  usai^r 

•qai;a  ^>JI*^5S  soBBqqBi)  :qo«3  ogi@,oi  ejnai!00 
00  :5id  OQC  sdraanx  :qsivi  i?  SioJiBO  isid  ogj  sjaofi 
IKS  0(je  sauin  painaij  :i«3  005  eaisiou  ijooi  lad  ozi 


Men  are  said  to  fail  into  love.  They  do  fall.  And 
niaay  never  rise  again.  But  no  man  comes  into  love 
by  gosiig  down  or  falling  down,  but  bv  climbiae.  Mar- 
riage lets  men  into  a  great  school  wiii^re  theu-  wh.Vis 
nature  must  undergo  instruction  and  even  reconstruc- 
tion. Ihere  are  no  perfect  men,  aud  there  u'-e  ao'oer- 
tect  women.  Life  is  to  mould  men  ami  women  to  per- 
tection.and  the  household  is  the  school,  and  love  is 
the  toacher.  His  task  is  to  love  tliose  wiio  prove  un- 
worthy to  iove— those  who  burden  litv  with  their  faults 
—to  love  not  the  good  ana  the  gentle  alone,  but  the 
iroward  and  the  evil;  to  love  those  that  ill  requite 
yoiu-  aeectioD ;  to  love  when  the  object  is  sinking  into 
evil;  tofollow,  tocail,  to  call  again;  to  wait  when  all 
hope  ol  return  seems  gone,— for  love  sutfereth  louo- 
hopetU  all  things,  eudfiireth  ail  things.    Love  ttever 

The  household,  then,  is  not  an  eartlily  Elysium,  into 
which  lovers  aj3  taken  as  saints  into  lieaveu.  Lovers 
are  olteu  proud  of  their  conquests.  You  cannot  tell 
whethei  you  have  conquered  until  you  have  iived  in- 
timately with  one  for  years.  Seldom  is  there  any  vic- 
tory Vetoie  wedding.  With  mauy  the  art  of  hartnoui- 
ous  iivuig  together  is  never  learned,  with  the  greatest 
numoeistis  learned  slowlv.  With  but  few  doe.s  it 
^?.«,"?  .f"  ^8  an  instinct.  There  is  very  little  possibility 
ot  hieing  in  the  household.  Our  best  and  ourwor4 
come  out  there.  Waio is  not  unlovely  at  times?  Who 
has  not  some  faculty  that  is  always  in  discord?  On 
the  whole.  It  may  be  thalvgeuuiae  good  nature  makes 
iiviug  togetiiei  the  easiest  of  anything,  and  pilde  the 
hatdest.  Good  nature  takes  things  as  it  finds  them 
It  !S  not  apt  to  be  fastidious;  and  more  families  are* 
luoeMed  lor  happiness  to  simple  good  nature  than  to 
love,  (toou  nature  and  a  good  diisposition  are  better 
for  marrying  than  grace  itself.  Tvro  seta  of  faculties 
are  lO  octjupy  the  spaceof  one.  It  is  hard  enough  to 
know  what  to  do  with  your  own  temper,  aud  if  you 
have  another  on  your  hands  it  is  harder  still 


Two  beings  who  have  met  aud   leit.  the    reciprocal 
".iion,   live  _  for  mouths  each  striyiiia  to  nleasa  tha 


wcro  supremely  wretched,  and  ought  to  be 
is  the  good  we  give  out  that  makes  us  happv 
not  iliat  which  we  take  in.  If  the  whole  prin- 
ciple were  only  obeyea  that  fills  men's  courtshins 
-with  .loy,  tlia  whole  life  would  be  ioyful.  Tile 
aojiistmeut  of  authority  must  sooner'  or  later  be 
made.  lufluence  is  the  ? ian  of  power.  Authority  is 
the  resort  of  weakness.  Ko  mau  wants  authority  vvho 
IS  consciofs  that  he  has  power.        - 

The  family  should  be  governed  by  the  unitv  of  joint 
counsel  w-here  the  parties  are  fairly  matched"  and 
eqiial.  Where  one  is  larger  than  the  other,  control 
will  go  with  the  largest  nature  without  regard  to  con- 
vention, or  rule,  or  agreemmt.  If  a  man  marries  a 
woman  whose  soul,  svhose  nature  its  larger  than  Irs 
can  volition  make  second  what  God  Alraiuht.y  made' 
first,  ana  can  you  pretend  ihat  she  that  thinks  better 
than  you  think  is  to  take  up  with  inferior  thinlans 
and  wi.Js  better  than  you  will  is  to  follow  your  oblique 
and  leeble  will!  Things  Jind  thdlr  level  and  place  by 
a  law  ol  uature-thafc  is,  to  iuterpret,  tlie  law  of  grace. 
Ihose  who  live  in  their  lov.-or  nature,  like  Indians  aud 
Ara.is,  are  easy  to  change  their  camo,  beitause  thov 
have  little  to  leave  aud  very  little  to  take.  Those  who 
live  w.ih  their  exalted  sentiments,  have  too  much  to 
easily  po  out  and  abandon  it,  A  man  who  has  no 
principles  does  not  care,  and  veers  one  way  o-  the 
other.  Those  who  have  noble  ideas  find  it  very  hard 
to  change,  certainly  to  change  downward. 

I  have  seen  a  royal  woman  who  married  a  pi"my 
and  yet  by  a  score  of  years  she  had  nursed  him  .w°that' 
It  was  not  a  slander  on  the  species  to  call  him  a  man. 
We  may  change  men  iuseusibiv  by  the  wear,  the  noble 
attenUon  of  a  better  nature  than  theirs,  aien  and 
women  cannot  make  ea.h  other  over  again,  however. 
They  are  there,  the  organic  peculiarities,  and  there 
they  wUl  be  titty  years  after,  with  the  same  distinct  iu- 
dividuahsm.  We  must  respect  the  liberty  and  the  lu- 
dividuality  of  each  person.  The  attempt  of  one  to  re- 
constiuct  the  other  will  soon  drive  them  apart.  The 
"rowmg  together  of  two  natures,  as  it  is  thevvotkof 
lije,js  worthy  of  the  whole  of  life;  for  he  may  learn 
the  whole  of  heaven  who  has.  with  heroic  self-Baciifice, 
hSled  mmself  in  every  element  ot  his  being  to  the  fac- 
ulties of  another,  so  that  by  antithesis  orbvsoncord, 
by  unison,  or  by  harmony  of  dilterent  pnilti,  there  may 
Siirliig  up  a  glonous  nnity  of  diversities. 

Men  are  married  in  very  ditlereut  degress.    .Some 

men  are  mairied  in  juxtaposition;    that  is  all.    Tliey 

are  not  married  mentally  at  ail.     There   are  no  two 

parts  parallel  or  alike  or  iu  concord.    Some  are  mar- 

.  L  1  led  in  tv,  o  "'•  *iuA«  fi(>iiU!''»  -  -    -'  -n  •....,  „.i,„„<,  ,^„^ 

;tio>jo.Tq  Biq 'j-jjiri  <9t,aox'   j'{   0i3qsB 'oniiwij  !n\Ji 

ini.oojo  wwBe^s    -qui  ■5(.ioi4iast     •san'j.svr^ia 

•«a3AtJH  moxi  'uiqinnioo  aetaeojs  'qiir  iv 

1319  mojj  'cpqaiBO  latncajs  •q49i  ly— HHOi  AV3>I* 

I  s:gooa  03n8qDX3  .sauuijoiew  ctcDijj 

•TOOOJi  3.ttafi  oanwqox-q- ,SHiBn>.i3i*r  oqi 
ajai  oq  ABTO  snopnqiJiaoo  •.nnijaq  Jiaqi  ui  aiqsjt 
no  eqi  oj  apura  noeo  eeq  iBaddn  an  pa>?"'s^onB»smn^ 
a  emijisHp  jCia*  ni  iiipoi  ijiod  stq^  paqoBaj  "easiv 
nopn«qB  A»usoai  'no^sofj  .loj  joSubct  eaoJi  'aajfiriiio 
puvxeiv  ai-iq  aii}  jo  ms^o  aqx    -aiMo  atmt/s^d  V 

■oos(ont!iiT  nssi 
f  enn  MosniM  ni  peoi  01  ej  Aqg  aianvs.  'no«ns  jd  b  1 
)9I|o•|EqA^  aoniBajs  JO  .vioj  ui  •kojsosi  .lojruiqiora 
psinox  uojjBM  U104.}  pmics  'jdMoj  tje3taC("'ldB0 
i^\  ££8  (aonopiAOjj;  jo)  'oraoioo  onojuq  Aian  aqx 


SELF-CONCEIT  IN  MORALS. 

SUNDAY  MOKNING,  JANUARY  3,  1869. 


INVOCATION. 


Thou  that  dost  hold  the  sun,  and  pour  forth  therefrom  the  light  and  glory  of 
the  day,  from  thine  own  self  let  there  come  streaming  as  the  daylight  those  in- 
fluences that  shall  awake  in  us  all  hope  and  all  gladness  of  love.  For  we  sleep 
except  when  thy  beams  are  on  us.  Only  when  we  are  in  God  are  we  alive.  Let 
us  in,  0  our  Father  !  and  may  all  that  is  within  us  rise  up  to  worship  thee.  Ac- 
cept our  service  according  to  what  we  would  do,  and  according  to  what  thou 
wouldst  have  us  do.  Bless  the  Word,  and  the  reading  thereof.  Bless  our  songs 
of  praise,  and  our  fellowship  therein.  Bless  our  communion  one  with  another, 
and  with  thee.  Bless  us  in  our  meditation,  in  the  services  of  the  day,  at  home, 
and  everywhere.  Make  this  a  golden  day  to  our  souls,  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Redeemer.     Amen. 


"  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  that  the  publicans  and  the  harlots  go  into  the  king- 
dom of  heaven  before  you."— Matt.  xxi.  31. 

Such  a  declaration  as  this,  made  to  the  men  and  women  who  stood 
highest  in  social  life  ;  who  represented  the  highest  religious  attain- 
ments of  that  age ;  who  considered  themselves  not  only  far  above 
the  wicked,  but  eminently  virtuous  and  religious,  must  have  created 
a  profound  indignation  and  disgust.  Even  yet,  it  seems  at  first  sight 
extravagant  and  revolutionary.  It  seems  to  say  that  the  gross  ex- 
tortions of  publicans,  and  the  unutterable  corruption  of  courtesans, 
are  less  criminal  than  a  morality  which  observes  all  laws  scrupulous- 
ly, and  is  clothed  with  eminent  decency.  For  these  words  were  uttered, 
not  to  low,  degraded  classes,  but  to  the  teachers  —  the  Scribes  and 
the  Pharisees.  These  words  seem  to  lower  the  value  of  a  good  life, 
by  making  an  exceedingly  bad  one  safer  and  more  hopeful. 

But  such  inferences  are  not  just.  It  is  not  affirmed,  nor  must  it 
be  inferred,  that  the  publicans  and  the  harlots  were  better  than  the 
Pharisees.  They  were  not  better,  they  were  not  pronounced  better 
— ^far  from  it.  The  Pharisees  were  a  great  deal  better  than  they 
were  in  the  ordinary  use  of  that  term,  and  in  the  ordinary  meaning 
of  it.  They  came  nearer  to  observation  of  law  and  decorum  ;  and 
if  these  elements  of  moral  character  were  all  that  was  necessary,  they 
certainly  might  be  supposed  to  be  relatively  safe. 

Lbssoh  :  Matt.  rsll.    Htmns  (Plymouth  Collection) :  Nos.  40,  889, 923. 


374  SELF-CONCEIT  IN  MOBALB. 

Nor  is  it  to  be  inferred  that  our  Master  regarded  either  party  aa 
good,  or  that  either  party  would  enter  into  the  life  eternal.  Neither 
is  it  intended  to  teach,  nor,  if  justly  considered,  does  it  teach,  that 
there  is  in  evil  a  recuperative  power,  so  that  very  bad  men  have  in 
their  badness  a  kind  of  spring  or  rebound  which  makes  them  safer 
than  if  they  were  not  as  low  down.  It  rather  takes  the  public  and 
universal  opinion  of  the  utter  and  desperate  wickedness  of  the  publi- 
can and  of  the  harlot  for  granted ;  and  the  almost  hopelessness  of 
their  recovery  is  taken  for  granted.  Then  it  says,  "  Yet,  bad  as  they 
are,  they  are  more  likely  to  become  good  than  ye  are."  The  cor 
ruptions  of  the  passions  are  more  likely  to  be  healed  than  is  spiritual 
conceit. 

That  is  the  force  of  the  passage.     So  that  the  passage  teaches, 
not  the  safety  of  passional  corruption,  but  the  danger  of  self-right- 
eousness.    It  is  not  a  comparison  between  them  as  to  their  moral 
character  ;   but  is  simply  a  comparison  between  them  as  to  the  like- 
lihood, which  there  is,  in  the  one  and  the  other,  of  recovery.  A  man  in 
the  almost  hopeless  state  of  passional  corruption  may  recover  ;   but 
for  the  recovery  of  a  man  that  is  in  the  hopeless  state  of  spiritual 
corruption  and  conceit,  there  is  scarcely  a  chance.      In  every  respect 
but  one,  the  Pharisees  were  superior  to  the  publicans  and  the  harlots; 
and  that  was  susceptibility  to  the  conviction  of  sin,  and  likelihood  of 
resort  to  God  for  a  true  life.     Eternal  life  is  a  gift  of  God.    No  man 
Las  it  in  himself   It  is  not  that  which  develops  itself  out  of  the  seed 
that  is  in  man — it  is  wrought  in  us.     It  is  the  gift  of  God,  and  with- 
out it  there  is  no  immortality.   But  it  is  not  a  gift  as  of  something  out 
of  the  hand  of  God,  like  a  title,  or  like  a  sceptre,  or  like  a  key  to 
open  the  gate  of  heaven,  or  like  a  coronet.     Eternal  life  is  not  a  gift 
as  of  something  fixed,  finished,  accomplished,  and  passed  over.   It  is 
a  gift  as  education  is.      It  is  something  wrought  patiently  and  long 
in  a  man.   Eternal  life  is  a  gift  to  us  as  the  sunlight  is  to  the  flowers — 
an  influence  which  enters  into  them  and  fashions  them.     Eternal  life 
from  the  hand  of  God  is  a  gift  to  mankind,  as  healing  is  a  gift  from 
the  physician  to  his  patient.      It  is  that  which  is  slowly  wrought  in 
them.   Eternal  life  is  wrought  in  us  by  the  power  of  the  Highest,  by 
the  indwelling  of  the  Holy  Ghost.      And  the  hope  of  the  future  is 
that  God's   Spirit,  entering  into   the   soul,  will   give  it  eternal  life. 
Hence,  the  criterion  of  hopefulness  in  any  case,  is  not  a  certain  posi- 
tion or  a  relation  of  a  man's  conduct  and  character  to  a  moral  stand- 
ard, useful  as  that  is,  and  indispensable  for  some  other  purposes  ;  but 
the  criterion  of  hopefulness  in  every  man's  case  is  the  openness  of  his 
soul  to  divine  influence,  and  its  susceptibility  to  change  under  that 
influence. 

The  value  and  excellence  of  the  photographer's  plate  which  is 


SELF-CONCEIT  IN  MOBALS.  375 

hidden  witliiu  the  camera  does  not  consist  in  what  it  is,  but  upon  its 
susceptibility  when  the  object-glass  of  the  camera  is  open  to  that 
light  which  streams  upon  it.  If  it  is  unprepared,  and  is  like  the  com- 
mon glass,  all  beauty  might  sit  before  it,  and  no  change  would  be 
produced  by  the  streaming  of  light.  The  glass  might  be  as  good  in 
the  first  case  as  in  the  second,  with  the  exception  that,  when  it  is  pre- 
pared, the  photographer's  glass  reveals  the  impression  of  beauty  made 
upon  it  by  the  light. 

The  criterion  of  hopefulness  in  a  man,  then,  is  not  that  he  has 
gone  so  high  in  moral  excellence.  A  man's  hopefulness  consists 
in  the  fact  that  eternal  life  is  the  gift  of  God.  It  consists  in  the 
mixing,  as  it  were,  of  the  divine  nature  with  ours,  and  the  breath- 
ing into  lis  of  the  spirit  of  God's  love.  The  criterion  of  hope- 
fulness is  the  openness  of  a  man's  soul  to  the  divine  influence,  and  its 
susceptibility  under  the  divine  shining. 

There  are,  then,  two  kinds  of  corrujition,  judged  by  this  criterion, 
as  we  shall  see  in  a  moment.  There  are  corruptions  that  may  be 
said  to  set  in  from  two  extremes.  Both  of  them  are  alike,  however, 
in  that  they  shut  up  the  soul  from  divine  influence.  They  render  it 
torpid,  or  insensitive  to  these  j)ictorial  impressions.  These  two  kinds 
of  corrugation  are  the  hasilar  and  the  coronal.  The  corruption  of  the 
bottom  and  the  corruption  of  the  top  of  a  man's  nature  work  in  the 
same  direction.  A  man  who  is  corrupted  either  by  his  passions  or  in 
his  reason  and  moral  sentiments,  puts  his  soiil  into  darkness — hides  it 
from  the  inshining  of  the  divine  light.  It  is  not  a  question  as  to 
whether  the  corruption  of  the  top  of  the  head,  or  the  corruption  of 
the  bottom  of  the  head,  is  worse  for  a  man  in  his  present  relations. 
The  question  is  not  as  to  which  is  the  worst  socially,  or  which  is  the 
worst  secularly.  Neither  is  it  the  question  as  to  which  has  the  most 
influence  on  the  mind  or  body.  The  question  is,  as  to  which  inter- 
poses most  between  the  light  of  God's  nature  and  the  soul.  And 
my  declaration  is,  that  one  is  as  bad  as  the  other,  so  far  as  hin- 
dering power  is  concerned. 

Dissipation  works  toward  animalism.  It  carries  a  man  away  from 
God.  It  strengthens  in  him  that  which  is  of  the  earth,  earthy. 
Self-conceit,  or  the  corruption  of  the  higher  nature,  works  toward 
the  idolatry  of  self.  One  changes  the  man,  and  the  other  covers  him 
up ;  and  both  of  them  hide  him  from  the  light — from  the  divine 
influence. 

In  comparing  their  results,  then,  dissijjation,  especially  in  its  later 
stages,  reveals  its  antagonism  to  divine  law.  There  is  no  soul,  among 
those  that  have  transgi-essed  long  enough  and  far  enough,  that  does 
not  know  that  it  is  sinning.  A  man  who  is  engaged  in  a  course  of 
dissipation  may  defend  himself— as  no  man  likes  to  be  put  down  in  his 


376  SELF-CONCEIT  IN  M0EAL8. 

own  conceit ;  but  his  inward  consciousness  and  conviction  is,  tliat  he 
is  doing  wrong,  and  that  he  is  a  wicked  man. 

The  coiTuption  of  the  upper  faculties  does  not  work  in  this  direc- 
tion, A  man  may  think  himself  to  be  good ;  he  may  be  proud  of  him- 
self ;  he  may  think  his  morality  eminent ;  he  may  add  step  to  step  and 
touch  to  touch  upon  his  character,  and  it  may  never  enter  into  his 
head  that  he  is  a  bad  mam.  Nay,  his  conceit  may  tell  him  that  he  is 
a  good  man. 

One  is  coiTupting  himself  by  courses  which  are  bad,  and  which 
make  him  think  that  he  is  bad.  The  other  is  corrupting  himself  by 
courses  which  stimulate  enormously  his  self-conceit,  and  in  the  nature 
of  things  do  not  convince  him  that  he  is  corrujDting  himself,  and  is 
guilty.  It  is  in  accordance  with  the  very  nature  of  self-conceit  not 
to  believe  harm  against  one's  self.  But  both  of  them  alike,  only  in 
different  ways,  prevent  a  man's  return  to  God.  He  that  wallows  in 
the  filth  is  surely  far  from  God ;  and  he  that  stands  far  above  him 
hides  himself  from  God  with  the  raiment  of  his  own  righteousness. 

Dissipation  takes  hold  on  actions,  and  grows  toward  misery,  and 
in  misery  comes  to  the  recognition  of  penalty ;  but  an  overweening 
estimate  of  a  man's  own  morality  never  produces  this  impression. 
There  is  a  kind  of  salutary  discontent  in  a  course  of  gross  sinning. 
Men  may  not,  in  the  moment  of  pleasure,  while  the  excitement  burns, 
believe  themselves  to  be  either  wretched  or  wicked ;  but  all  excite- 
ments in  the  later  stages  of  corruption  have  their  terrible  nights,  their 
reactionary  hours;  and  in  those  hours  men  call  themselves  by  uttered 
names.  And  no  other  tongue  ever  inveighs  against  a  man's  wicked 
career  as  his  own  tongue  does  when  he  is  on  the  downward  road. 
There  are  these  intermissions  in  which  his  soul  rebounds  from 
high  excitement.  But  there  is  no  such  rebound  in  the  case  of  a  man 
who  is  blinded  by  self-esteem  and  overweening  conceit  of  himself. 
He  is  going  on  in  a  course  that  hides  him  from  God.  He  is  covering 
himself  all  over  with  good  actions,  and  God  is  not  in  all  his  thoughts. 
He  hides  himself  from  God  by  these  things  ;  and  he  has  no  recog- 
nition or  sense  of  need  of  God. 

The  very  hopelessness  of  reform  has  in  it,  on  the  side  of  really 
coiTupt  men  of  the  world,  a  cei'tain  element  of  hopefulness.  So  long 
as  a  man  thinks  he  can  easily  turn  back  on  his  course,  he  is  not  will- 
ing to  turn  back.  You  shall  hear  men,  every  one  of  whose  friends  know 
they  have  gone  beyond  the  point  of  discretion  in  drinking,  say,  "  I 
can  take  it  when  I  like,  and  I  can  leave  it  off  when  I  please."  Have 
you  ever  tried  ?  Have  you  ever  put  your  hand  to  the  task  ?  Men  in 
all  the  middle  courses,  going  down  from  bad  to  worse,  in  the  indul- 
gence of  the  appetites,  have  the  feeling  that,  whenever  they  please^ 
they  can  turn  back. 


SELF-CONCEIT  IN  MOBALS.  377 

All !  when  men  are  swimming  with  the  tide,  how  easy  it  is ! 
They  seem  to  themselves,  oh  !  how  lithe  and  spi'ingy.  But  let  them 
tnrn  round  and  attemj^t  to  swim  back,  and  they  will  find  that  it  is 
quite  a  different  matter.  There  is  many  and  many  a  man  whose  con- 
viction of  danger  comes  with  his  attempt  to  tui-n  back  on  habit. 

When  nien  have  gone  beyond  the  period  of  security,  and  have 
come  to  that  stage  where  they  are  in  despair,  having  vainly  tried 
again  and  again  to  turn  back,  if  some  rescue  comes  to  them  from  some 
friend,  or  from  the  Divine  Spirit,  frequently  light  springs  up  in  their 
souls,  and  they  come  into  a  hopeful  state  of  mind,  because  they  have 
abandoned  all.  vain  reliance  in  themselves.  They  know  their  danger, 
and  that  only  God  can  save  them.  One  of  the  indispensable  steps, 
and  one  of  the  hopeful  steps  of  recovery  from  sin,  is  that  a  man  shall 
be  convinced  both  that  he  is  in  imminent  peril,  and  that  unless  there 
is  divine  help  he  can  not  be  rescued  from  it.  So  that  in  the  very 
lowest  stages  of  vice  and  corruption  there  may  spring  a  hope  in  the 
soul.  With  a  sense  that  it  is  deeply  Ma-ong,  damnably  wrong,  fatally 
wrong,  a  soul  in  its  hopelessness  may  cry  out,  "  God  help  me !"  as 
many  a  man  does,  at  the  last  moment.    Oh  !  that  he  had  cried  earlier. 

But  where  men  have  gone  on  building  themselves  up  with  con- 
ceits of  their  own  goodness ;  where  men  have  been  boasting  of  their 
own  virtues ;  where  men  have  taken  their  good  deeds  and  magnified 
them,  and  their  faults,  and  minified  them,  and  built  themselves  up  till 
they  are  effectually  removed  from  God,  there  never  come  to  them 
these  periods  of  conviction  in  which  they  feel,  "Unless  God  helps 
rae,  I  am  lost !"  It  does  not  occur  to  them  that  they  need  help,  that 
there  is  any  medicine  required  in  their  case ;  and  therefore  there  is 
less  hope  of  their  turning  than  if  they  were  a  great  deal  worse.  In 
short,  men  have  in  themselves,  even  when  they  deny  to  others  the 
fact,  a  consciousness  of  sin,  a  conviction  of  their  need  of  remedy ; 
and  sometimes,  when  the  refuge  is  presented,  they  at  once  fly  to  it, 
and  are  saved. 

Of  these  two  forms  of  danger,  in  one  of  which  the  man  knows  his 
peril,  and  in  the  other  of  which  he  believes  that  he  is  safe,  the 
latter  is  the  more  dangerous.  Of  two  men  eating  at  the  same  banquet 
that  has  been  poisoned,  which  is  the  more  likely  to  be  restored — the 
man  who  knows  that  it  is  poisoned,  or  the  man  that  goes  away  from 
the  table  unconscious  that  it  is  poisoned?  In  which  case  is  there 
more  reason  to  expect  that  there  will  be  recovery  ? 

At  the  recent  great  flood  at  Albany,  where  those  warehouses  were 
undermined  and  thrown  down,  one  man  was  at  the  base  and  the 
other  in  the  attic.  The  man  at  the  base,  being  right  where  the 
danger  Avas,  saw  the  pressure  and  the  Avearing,  and  heard  the  grind- 
ing.    He  saw  brick  after  brick,  and  stone  after  stone,  ground  out  by 


378  SELF-CONCEIT  IN  MORALS. 

the  sawing  ice.  And  seeing  and  knowing  these  things,  as  the  danger 
came  on,  he  could  flee  ;  but  the  man  in  his  office  in  the  attic  neither 
saw  the  danger,  nor  believed  that  there  was  any  danger,  and  went 
on  summing  up  his  profits  and  laying  out  his  plans.  Which  of  these 
men  had  the  best  chance  of  escape,  the  man  at  the  bottom,  who  saw 
the  danger,  or  the  man  at  the  top,  Avho  saw  nothing  and  heard 
nothing  ? 

If  our  Master  were  here,  would  he  not  bring  home  this  truth  to 
very  many  of  us?  And  may  I  not,  without  presumption,  without 
hai'shness,  repeat  in  your  presence  the  very  words  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  say  of  one  and  another,  and  of  many  iii  this  congregation,  "  Tlie 
publicans  and  the  harlots  will  go  into  the  kingdom  of  God  before 
you  "?  I  do  not  say  that  you  are  a  jjublican  or  a  harlot ;  I  do  not  say 
that  you  are  as  bad  as  a  publican  or  a  harlot;  I  do  not  say  that  any 
proper  comj^arison  can  be  made  between  them  and  you,  in  any  other 
respect  except  this  one,  that,  hopeless  and  desperate  as  their  case  is, 
your  case,  so  far  as  reformation  and  effijctual  spiritual  purification  are 
concerned,  is  even  more  desperate  and  hopeless. 

There  are,  in  the  first  place,  the  men  whose  natural  tendency 
leads  them  to  an  overweening  estimate  of  themselves.  There  are 
men  who  have  a  sense  of  superior  and  sometimes  of  supreme  excel- 
lence. All  the  pi'eaching  in  the  world  seems  only  to  make  them  pity 
other  folks.  There  are  men  who  sit  quiescent,  and  pleased  and  smiling 
to  hear  the  denunciations  of  the  law,  and  who  think,  as  they  listen, 
"These  sinners  are  being  faithfully  dealt  with."  Men  there  are  who, 
when  the  truth  is  brought  home  to  them,  and  even,  for  the  moment, 
pierces  the  covering  of  their  intense  self-esteem,  feel,  "It  is  probably 
in  the  way  of  professional  duty  that  the  minister  does  it ;  he  thinks 
that  he  ought  to  do  it ;  and  as  I  am  a  reputable  man  in  the  congrega- 
tion, I  ought  not  to  take  offence.  He  says  these  things  to  me, 
because  he  has  to  say  them  to  me  in  order  to  say  them  to  other  peo- 
ple. I  simply  take  my  share  for  the  benefit  of  other  folks."  Are 
there  not  men  that  sit  in  this  congregation  who  have  had  this  insane 
vanity,  this  inordinate  conceit,  which  seems  to  have  been  wrought 
into  the  very  fibre  of  their  being  ?  They  look  upon  all  arguments 
and  appeals  with  a  kind  of  speculative  interest ;  but  it  never  reaches 
to  the  core  of  matters,  and  never  brings  them  down  on  their  knees 
before  God,  and  causes  them  to  say,  "  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner !" 
They  have  been  lifted  up  by  joy,  they  have  been  melted  by  pity,  they 
have  been  pleased  and  instructed  by  arguments,  they  have  known 
various  experiences,  they  have  had  various  emotions  in  their  soul ; 
but  none  of  these  things  have  led  them  to  feel,  "  I  am,  from  the  crown 
of  my  head  to  the  sole  of  my  foot,  sinful ;  I  am  bi-uised  and  sick ;  I  am 
needy ;  my  case  is  desperate ;  and  nothing  can  help  me  out  of  my 


SELF-CONCEIT  IN  MORALS.  379 

trouble  biit  the  infinite  love  and  sovereign  power  of  God."  That  im- 
pression they  never  had  in  their  life.  And  yet,  these  are  men  whose 
shoes  are  never  soiled,  and  whose  hands  are  never  uncleanly.  They  are 
men  who  wipe  their  lips  ;  Avho  boast  of  their  civility ;  who  stand  high  ; 
who  are  excellent  men — excellent  for  the  uses  of  this  life.  But  oh! 
for  the  other  life !  For  we  are  to  this  life  what  the  seed-corn  is  to 
next  summer.  "Corn  that  may  be  very  good  for  horses'  food  to-day, 
may  not  be  good  to  sprout  and  come  up  and  make  new  corn  for  the 
summer  that  is  following.  And  the  character  that  may  be  good  for 
society  purposes  here,  may  not  have  in  it  that  element  which  shall 
carry  a  man  into  the  grave,  and  through  the  grave,  and  into  the  pre- 
sence of  God,  and  make  him  a  fit  companion  for  God's  angels  in  the 
heavenly  land.  And  though  I  would  not  charge  you  who  have  an 
overweening,  inordinate  estimation  of  your  own  excellence  and  your 
own  safety  therein ;  though  I  would  not  charge  you  with  drunken- 
ness, nor  with  lechery,  nor  with  fraud,  nor  with  lying  ;  though  I  would 
say  that  you  are  better  in  many  respects  than  persons  who  are  guilty 
of  these  great  vices  and  crimes;  yet,  so  far  as  the  uncovering  of  the 
soul  before  God  and  God's  Spirit  is  concerned,  the  publicans  and  the 
harlots  shall  go  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  before  you.  They  believe 
that  they  are  sinners;  they  know  it;  and,  by  and  by,  there  may  come 
an  hour  in  which  they  will  cry  out  in  anguish  and  despair,  "  God, 
save  me !"  But  you  do  not  believe  that  you  are  a  sinner.  You  have 
never  known  the  time  when  you  had  a  consciousness  of  the  want  of 
divine  helj) ;  you  have  never  known  the  moment  when  you  lifted  up 
hands  strained  with  desire,  and  said,  "  O  God  !  change  this  heart  of 
mine !"     And  your  pride  will  be  your  destruction. 

There  are  those  here  who  have  formed  habits  of  injurious  self-de- 
fence, which  involve  precisely  the  same  consequences  as  conceit,  and 
precisely  the  same  consequences  as  passional  corruption.  That  is,  it 
removes  them  far  from  God,  and  hides  them  from  the  influences  of 
God's  Spirit.  There  are  a  great  many  persons  who  assure  them- 
selves, if  not  of  salvableness,  yet  of  comparative  safety,  by  measur- 
ing themselves  by  their  fellows.  And  there  are  two  ways  in  which 
these  selfdefending  men  measure  themselves,  as  they  are  accus- 
tomed to  look  down  upon  those  that  are  below  them.  They  thank 
God  that  they  are  not  as  other  men  are — not  even  as  "  this  publican." 
There  are  a  great  many  men  who,  when  some  word  of  exhortation  is 
addressed  to  them,  instantly  say,  "  I  am  not  one  of  the  drunkards ;  I 
do  not  steal ;  I  am  not  a  liar."  They  look  piteously  upon  the  de- 
graded classes  as  they  pass  through  society,  and  say,  "  What  poor 
wretches  these  creatures  are  !  Oh  !  if  they  only  knew  how  much  bet- 
ter and  safer  it  is  to  be  moral !  Oh !  if  they  only  knew  how  much 
pleasanter  it  is  to  feel  that  they  can  wash  their  hands  in  inuocency." 


880  SELF-CONCEIT  IN  MORALS. 

They  look  upon  Lurglars  and  the  various  rascals  of  society  with  utter 
indignation.  They  denounce  corruption  in  every  form,  and  go  home 
and  complacently  say  to  themselves,  "  I  thank  God  that  I  have  been 
mercifully  preserved ;  that  my  foot  has  been  kept  from  sliding  when 
others  have  been  tempted,  and  gone  over  into  all  manner  of  wicked- 
ness, and  are  low-lived,  and  are  vulgar  in  their  instincts  and  r.ssocia- 
tions.  I  have  reason  to  thank  God  and  my  parents  that  1 1/ave  al- 
ways been  kept  from  these  things." 

Now,  every  man  has  reason  to  thank  God  for  preservation  from 
evil  courses.  It  is  a  very  great  mercy.  But  you  ought  not  to  blind 
yourselves  to  the  fact  that  you  are  imperfect,  and  even  sinful.  But 
men  of  correct  morals  are  j^rone  to  thank  God,  not  that  they  are  the 
objects  of  great  spai'ing  mercy,  but  that  they  are  good — that  really 
they  are  excellent. 

Then  to  this  is  joined  another  form  of  comparison.  I  have  fre 
quently  noticed  that  these  mildly  excellent  men  who  are  so  grateful 
that  they  have  been  delivered  from  all  manner  of  temptations,  look 
upon  church-members  as  their  apj^ropriate  game.  They  are  men  that 
do  not  throw  the  line  in  the  brook,  nor  go  forth  with  the  gun  into  the 
fields,  but  that  are  hunters  of  men.  They  hunt  Christians.  At  home 
they  regale  their  wives  with  all  the  scandal  that  they  can  pick  up 
about  church-members.  There  are  men  at  boarding-houses  who  lose 
no  opportunity  to  bring  professors  of  religion  into  disrepute.  If  a 
church-member  is  charged  with  some  vice  or  crime,  they  do  not 
fail  to  make  it  a  subject  of  table  gossip.  "  Ah  !"  they  say,  "  a  pro- 
fessor of  religion,  eh  ?  He  is  one  of  your  church-members,  is  he  ?  I 
think  he  must  be  a  member  of  some  church,  for  I  heard  he  stole  !"  If 
they  can  detect  and  pull  down  a  Christian  professor,  they  do  it. 
The  reputations  of  professing  Christians  are  in  their  hands  what 
cards  are  in  the  hands  of  an  expert  gambler. 

If  you  urge  these  men  to  repentance,  they  resent  it,  and  say,  "  I 
am  a  good  deal  better  now  than  your  church-members  are."  If  you 
urge  them  to  serve  the  Lord,  they  reply,  "  I  am  too  honest  a  man.  I 
can  not  afford  to  serve  the  Lord  as  that  man  does  who  belongs  to 
your  church.  You  want  me  to  be  like  him,  do  you  ?  No,  sir,  I  can 
not  stoop  so  low  as  to  be  like  him !  I  profess  to  keep  my  word.  At 
any  rate,  I  am  not  a  hypocrite.     I  am  sincere,  whatever  else  I  am." 

Half  their  time  these  men  spend  in  thanking  God  that  they  are  not 
as  bad  as  the  low  and  degraded  that  they  see  about  them ;  and  the 
other  half  they  spend  in  defending  themselves  against  the  superior 
claims  of  church-members.  They  weave  multitudes  of  excuses  to 
make  themselves  think  that  they  are  about  as  good  as  they  need  to 
be ;  and  they  say,  "  Though  I  do  not  expect  to  be  a  saint,  I  guess, 
when  the  time  comes  round,  I  shall  have  about  as  many  chances  at 


SELF-CONCEIT  IN  MORALS.  381 

the  gate  as  most  folks  have."  They  select  professors  of  religion  and 
members  of  the  church  that  very  likely  are  culpable,  and  guilty  of 
damnable  sins,  and  say,  "  I  shall  get  to  heaven  as  soon  as  he  does" — 
and  both  of  them  will  go  down  to  the  pit !  And  to  such  men  I  say, 
The  publican  and  the  harlot  stand  more  chances  of  going  into  the 
kingdom  of  heaveli  than  you  do.  Not  that  you  are  not  better  ia 
your  morals  than  they  are,  but  that  you  take  your  goodness  and  tie 
it  as  a  bandage  about  your  eyes,  that  you  may  not  see  the  glory  of 
the  face  of  Christ  Jesus,  your  Saviour. 

Then,  there  are  those  who  are  scrupulous  in  attaining  good  morals 
and  refinement,  but  who  convert  that  which  they  do  attain  in  these 
directions  into  selfishness.  They  take  themselves,  by  their  very  cul- 
ture and  refinement,  out  of  the  fundamental  element  of  sympathy  and 
love  which  is  indispensable  to  Christian  life.  As  the  cream  aban- 
dons the  milk  from  which  it  took  its  life,  and  rises  to  the  top,  and 
rides  there ;  so  men,  because  they  are  richer  than  those  around  about 
them,  rise,  and  separate  themselves,  and  all  mankind  below  them 
they  regard  as  skim-milk.  They  themselves  are  cream !  How  many 
persons  there  are  who  are  not  made  better  by  being  made  finer ! 
Refinement  should  make  a  man  finer,  not  simply  in  thought,  in  criti- 
cism, and  in  imagination,  but  in  sensibility,  so  that  he  can  bear  with 
people  that  are  not  fine  ;  so  that  he  feels  that  there  is  a  golden  chord 
of  attachment  springing  up  between  him  and  every  man  that  is  not 
fine.  That,  however,  is  not  the  .ordinary  working  of  refinement. 
How  many  persons  there  are  that  spurn  an  evil  story,  that  scorn 
a  salacious  book,  that  look  with  immeasurable  disapprobation  upon 
vice  and  crime,  that  can  not  even  bear  ignorance  and  slowness, 
that  have  formed  themselves  into  a  beautiful  manhood,  but  who,  in 
proportion  as  they  have  gone  up  in  fineness,  have  also  become  cold, 
and  exclusive,  and  imsympathizing  ! 

As  a  man  wandering  up  in  the  Swiss  mountains  out  from  the  lower 
and  warmer  valleys,  finds  that  he  is  leaving  population  further  and 
further  behind  him,  and  that  it  becomes  snowy  and  cold  as  he  rises ; 
so  there  ai'e  men  in  society  who  become  as  cold  as  a  glacier  or  the 
ever  snow-clad  peaks  of  the  mountains.  And  though  these  men  are 
in  a  hundred  respects  superior  to  those  with  whom  they  compare 
themselves,  yet  there  is  one  fatal  point  in  their  case,  and  that  is,  that 
they  have  taken  all  this  superior  culture  and  all  these  refining  influ- 
ences, and  the  result  of  them  in  their  lives,  to  separate  between 
themselves  and  God.  And  I  say  to  those  who  are  the  most  deli- 
cately organized  ;  who  are  the  most  susceptible  to  taste  ;  who  have  an 
eye  that  in  a  day  sees  more  beauty  than  the  clown  sees  in  an  age  ; 
whose  lip  is  full  of  rapture  over  the  marvels  of  antiquity ;  who  have 
commerce  with  that  which  is  rich,  and  fine,  and   noble  ;  but  who 


382  SELF-CONCEIT  IF  MORALS. 

leave  out  from  their  view  God  and  their  fellow-men — I  say  to  them, 
The  publican  and  the  harlot  are  more  likely  to  be  changed,  and  to 
return  to  God,  than  you  are. 

Then  there  is  an  arrogance  and  a  selfishness,  besides  this  arro 
gance  and  selfishness  of  conceit,  springing  from  refinement  and  social 
fastidiousness.  There  are  those  who  confound  their  character  and 
their  circumstances  in  such  a  way  that  they  seem  never  to  know  the 
difiference  between  what  is  themselves  and  that  which  is  round  about 
them.  There  are  many  men  who,  when  they  wish  to  measure  their 
own  girth,  put  a  measuring  line  around  about  their  property,  or 
around  about  their  reputation.  They  measure  their  social  position  ; 
and  if  they  would  ascertain  how  great  is  the  height  and  what  is  the 
diameter  of  I^  they  measure  all  that  they  own,  and  call  that  I, 
They  do  not  distinguish  between  the  interior  jsersonal  identity  and 
their  exterior  form. 

If  I  might  weigh  ^11  the  straw  and  all  the  chaff  that  grows  in  my 
wheat-field,  and  call  it  wheat,  and  get  from  the  miller  so  much  per 
pound  for  it,  how  rich  a  man  I  should  be  in  harvesting  my  crop  ! 
But  there  are  two  pounds  of  straw  and  chaff"  where  there  is  one 
pound  of  wheat. 

In  human  life,  men  must  have  straw  to  grow  on,  and  chaff  which 
is  the  nurse  of  their  immature  excellences  ;  but  when  you  come  to  mea- 
eure  the  man  himself,  nothing  can  be  measured  but  the  interior  ele- 
ments of  his  being ;  as  when  you  go  to  the  mill,  you  have  to  measure 
the  wheat  alone,  and  not  what  it  grew  on,  nor  what  surrounded 
and  bandaged  it.  The  proportion  of  the  wheat  to  the  straw  is  some- 
times almost  infinitesimal.  Men,  not  unfrequeutly,  say  of  their 
wheat,  that  it  is  not  worth  cutting.  And  the  reapers  in  the  haiwest- 
t'eld  above  say  the  same  thing  in  respect  to  multitudes  of  men  on  earth 
who  are  tall,  fat,  and  huge  in  the  straw,  and  have  bushy  heads,  plump 
and  apparently  full,  till  you  come  to  rub  them  in  your  hands  to  get 
out  the  wheat,  when  the  wheat  proves  to  be  small,  not  fit  to  grind, 
and  certainly  not  fit  to  plant,  because  all  their  life  they  grew  to  straw 
and  chaff.  And  yet,  there  are  a  great  many  men  who,  when  they 
measure  themselves,  and  take  an  estimate  of  themselves,  measure 
their  externality — all  that  they  have  accumulated,  all  that  they  have 
desired  or  thought,  and  all  the  impi-essions  that  they  have  made  upon 
the  imaginations  and  opinions  of  their  fellow-men.  They  lay  great 
stress  upon  their  reputation.  But  oh  !  a  man's  reputation  sometimes 
touches  the  horizon,  when  his  character  is  no  bigger  than  the  point  of 
a  needle.  For  chai-acter  is  what  a  man  is,  absolutely,  and  before 
God. 

Now,  when  a  man  measures  his  circumstances,  and  by  some 
legerdemain  of  the  mind  conceives  that  he  is  wise  and  strong  because 


SELF-COFCEIT  IN  MORALS.  383 

he  is  prosperous  and  voluminous  in  his  external  developments,  it  may 
be  said  of  him  most  truly  that  the  publican  and  the  harlot  shall  go 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  before  him.  What  is  there  that  this  man 
should  ask  God  for  ?  What  is  there  that  the  heaven  does  not  give 
him  ?  And  what  is  there  that  the  earth  does  not  give  him  ?  "  J  ask 
God  for  any  thing !"  he  says.  "  Do  I  not  own  a  whole  railroad,  and 
many  of  them?  What  can  God  give  me  ?  Have  I  not  laid  aside  a 
million  dollars  not  to  be  touched  by  speculations?  Do  not  I  own 
opera-houses  ?  and  do  I  not  own  companies  ?  What  do  I  lack  ? 
Who  can  touch  me  ?  Have  I  not  power  to  put  down  and  to  put  up,  if 
I  will?  And  if  a  man  offends  me,  can  not  I  avenge  myself?  The 
scorpion  can  not  sting  quicker  than  I  can,  nor  worse.  What  do  I 
need  ?"  And  so  a  man  rolling  in  wealth  and  corruption  has  not  the 
least  idea  but  that  it  i^  all  right  wuth  him.  Victorious  on  earth,  he 
thinks  he  will. storm  death,  and  carry  the  kingdom  of  God.  But  in  a 
moment,  as  Avhen,  browsing,  utterly  unconscious,  the  ox  j^uts  his  foot 
on  the  stalwart  mushroom  and  cruslies  it,  and  does  not  .know  it,  so 
death  will  tread  him  down,  and  he  will  be  destroyed,  and  he  will  be 
as  a  mushroom  that  comes  from  corruption,  and  goes  back  to  it ! 

And  yet,  such  men  walk  in  respectability,  and  their  cellar  is  full, 
and  their  bank-account  is  ample,  and  they  are  the  envy  of  young  men, 
who  look  upon  them  and  say,  "  Oh!  if  I  could  be  such  a  man  as  he  !" 
Why,  misery,  young  man,  is  worth  more  than  all  that  man's  hoards. 
If  you  have  a  heart  that  trembles  under  temptation,  and  is  afraid  of 
being  tempted,  it  is  worth  more  than  that  man  can  call  his  own.  Do 
not  envy  him.  Do  not  crave  the  prosperity  of  the  wicked.  In  due 
time  their  feet  shall  slide.  The  very  publicans  and  harlots — the 
sweepings  of  the  gutters — the  rotting  wretches  that  are  hardly  strong 
enough  to  groan  as  they  die,  have  a  better  chance  to  enter  the  king- 
dom of  God  than  many  men  who  flaunt  through  the  city  in  the  arro- 
gance of  their  corrupt  riches. 

I  will  not  pursue  these  specifications  further.  By  way  of  applica- 
tion, in  closing,  let  me  say,  first,  that  the  estimate  'given  in  this  illus- 
tration of  our  text  of  the  danger  which  every  man  is  in  who  is  out 
of  Christ,  and  has  no  communion  with  God,  is  one  that  ought  to 
come  very  near  Lome  to  us.  You  and  I  feel  alike  in  respect  to  the 
danger  of  a  corruptionist.  You  and  I  feel  alike  in  respect  to  the 
dangers  of  dissipation  and  of  lust.  Where  a  man  has  given  himself 
over  to  do  wickedness  greedily  ;  where  a  man  has  lost  his  honor,  his 
truth,  and  his  honesty,  it  is  very  hard  for  him  ever  to  be  turned  back 
from  his  evil  course.  Every  thing  takes  hold  of  him  and  crowds  him  in 
one  way ;  and  if  he  attempts  to  go  back  again,  all  society  hinders  his 
going  back.  It  is  a  thousand  times  easier  to  go  on  in  the  wrong  than 
to  go  back  to  the  right,  although  the  right  has  God  on  its  side.     One 


o84  SELF-CONCEIT  IN  MORALS. 

Avould  think  that  the  sympathy  of  good  men,  and  the  sympathy  ol 
the  law,  and  the  sympathy  of  God,  would  help  a  man  back;  but 
events  show  that  where  a  man  has  gone  wrong,  and  turns  round  to 
go  back,  every  thing  is  against  him.  Public  sentiment  is  against  him  ; 
his  own  habits  are  against  him;  the  impulses  of  his  nature  are  against 
him.  Therefore,  when  a  man  through  a  period  of  ten  years  or  five 
years,  has  been  a  sharper,  a  cheater,  a  usurious  and  avaricious  man, 
we  apply  to  him  the  words  of  the  j)rophet,  and  say,  "Can  tlie  Ethio- 
pian change  his  skin,  or  the  leopard  his  spots  ?  Then  may  he  also  do 
good,  that  is  accustomed  to  do  evil." 

Men  look  upon  the  efforts  of  such  persons  to  reform  with  very  little 
confidence  that  they  will  succeed.  When  it  is  said  of  such  a  man 
that  he  has  been  sick,  and  that  he  has  come  out  a  different  man,  and 
is  going  to  be  a  better  man,  men  shake  their  Ijeads  and  say : 

"  When  tlie  devil  was  sick,  the  devil  a  monk  would  be ; 
When  the  devil  got  well,  the  devil  a  monk  was  he  ! " 

And  it  is  the  testimony  of  shrewd,  observing  men,  that  when  a 
man  is  corrupted  in  truth  and  honesty,  the  chances  are  nine  hundred 
and  ninety-nine  in  a  thousand  against  him.  The  chances  for  him  are 
so  few  that  the  prophet  does  not  consider  them  Worth  counting,  and 
says,  "The  Ethiopian  will  sooner  change  his  skin,  or  the  leopard  his 
spots,  than  a  man  who  has  been  accustomed  to  do  evil  will  learn  to 
do  well."  And  that  is  the  judgment  of  the  world.  And  oh !  if  you 
go  on  in  corruption,  and  dishonesty,  and  lust,  till  the  body  and  the 
soul  seem  to  have  run  together  in  a  common  ichor,  what  can  you  ex- 
pect but  that  you  will  be  overtaken  by  irretrievable  ruin  ? 

The  sad  endeavors  toward  reformation,  the  sad  struggles  for  re- 
covery from  sin,  M'hich  we  see,  lead  one  to  say,  "If  the  windows  of 
heaven  were  opened,  so  that  such  a  one  might  look  in,  it  might  be 
that  he  would  be  reformed  ;  but  the  chances  are  that  he  w^ould  not. 
I  shall  believe  it  %vhen  I  see  it." 

The  publican  and  the  harlot  have  a  very  poor  chance.  They  are 
in  such  imminent  danger  that  public  sentiment  does  not  overleap  the 
facts  at  all  ;  and  yet  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  says  that  the  man  who 
by  conceit  shuts  his  heart  to  the  changing  power  of  the  Divine  Spirit, 
Las  not  so  many  chances  as  they  have. 

There  are  some  here  who  are  the  children  of  holy  men  and  avo- 
men.  Some  of  you,  who  sit  in  my  presence,  have  never  deflected  from 
the  way  of  absoh  te  morality ;  you  have  never  stained  your  character; 
but  you  have  intoxicated  your  mind.  You  have  no  divine  power 
striving  in  you.  And  my  message  to  you  this  nP-orning  is,  that  with- 
out God,  the  publican  and  the  harlot  will  enter  ,he  kingdom  of  God 


SELF-CONCEIT  IN  MOBALS.  385 

before  you ;  that  is,  tliey  have  more  chances  of  reaching  heaven  than 
yon  have. 

Do  not  think  that  your  clanger  lies  in  outbreaking  sin.  In  some 
cases  the  danger  lies  there  ;  but  in  some  cases  the  danger  lies  in  an 
intense  spiritual  conceit  ;  in  an  arrogant  morality ;  in  an  overween- 
ing estimate  of  your  own  goodness  and  safety.  You  do  not  feel  that 
you  need  a  Physician,  and  therefore  you  will  die  in  your  sins.  You 
do  not  feel  that  you  need  a  Deliverer,  and  therefore  Christ  is  nothing 
to  you.  You  are  not  conscious  that  you  need  bread,  and  therefore 
the  bread  of  life  is  not  brought  to  you.  You  say,  "  I  am  not  blind 
— I  see ;  I  am  not  naked — I  am  clothed ;  I  am  not  hungry — I  am 
fed  ;"  and  yet  you  are  blind  and  naked  and  hungry  ;  and  so  you  will 
perish,  though  there  is  salvation  proffered  to  such  as  you  are. 

The  time  is  coming  when  all  things  shall  appear  as  they  are,  ac- 
cording to  the  spiritual  measurement  of  things.  The  time  is  coming 
when  you  and  I  shall  have  served  our  term  here,  and  shall  have 
passed  through  sickness  and  death,  and  shall  stand  before  God.  You 
will  go  up,  many  of  you,  with  your  fancied  excellences  and  your  com- 
plaisant characters  in  your  hand,  to  stand  before  God,  only  to  see 
that  you  never  knew  him,  and  to  hear  him  say,  "  I  never  knew  you." 
Strangers,  aliens,  and  enemies,  you  are,  by  evil  works.  Although  you 
have  sat  much  under  the  Gospel,  and  have  all  your  life  long  been  sur- 
rounded by  beneficent  influences,  they  have  never  brought  your  §oul 
into  a  living  communion  with  the  spirit  or  the  love  of  God.  Immor- 
tality can  only  come  by  that;  and  you  have  lost  your  portion.  And 
as  you  depart,  glancing,  and  seeing  the  glory  that  you  leave  behind 
— then,  methinks,  some  feeble  voices  shall  be  lifted  uj),  and  shall  be 
heard.  Some  poor  child  of  sin  and  sorrow,  betrayed  by  her  best  af- 
fections, was  carried  down,  down,  down,  till  all  that  was  within  her 
said,  "I  am  lost  if  God  does  not  save  me  !"  when,  shot  from  the  bosom 
of  God's  love,  there  came  a  ray  of  light,  and  she  looked,  and  saw  her 
Saviour.  And  ever  since  she  has  followed  him ;  and  she  will  enter 
the  kingdom  of  heaven.  And  in  that  moment  when  she  becomes  the 
companion  of  God's  angels,  you,  that  never  sinned  as  she  did,  nor  lis- 
tened to  the  voice  of  your  passions  ;  you  that  have  turned  your  face 
from  God  and  heaven,  will  go  down,  down,  down,  forever  and  forever, 
and  will  perish  !  And  then  you  will  know  that  it  is  possible  even 
for  a  publican  or  a  harlot  to  enter  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  you  to 
be  cast  out. 

I  beseech  of  you,  count  not  yourselves  unworthy  of  eternal  life. 
Break  up  these  vain  dependencies  and  this  self-conceit.  You  are 
sinners,  deeply,  universally  sinning,  and  unless  you  are  born  again  of 
God's  Spirit,  you  shall  not  see  the  kingdom  of  God. 


386  SELF-CONCEIT  IN  MORALS. 


PRAYER    BEFORE    THE    SERMOK. 

We  thank  thee,  our  Father,  that  we  are  bom  again  into  the  knowledge  of  thee  ;  that  higher 
Qian  all  earthly  knowledge  we  have  found  that  dear  soul's  experience  which  the  heaven  doth  not 
teach,  and  which  the  earth  doth  not  disclose  ;  which  can  come  only  by  thy  Spirit  speaking  with 
our  own— by  the  indwelling  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Thou  hast  lifted  us  by  thy  creating  energy  into 
life  superior  and  spiritual ;  and  we  know  God,  whom  to  know  aright  is  life  eternal.  But  we 
know  thee  not  perfectly ;  for  thou  art  infinite,  and  only  as  we  rise  into  likeness  to  thee  can  we 
learn  thee.  So  remote  are  we,  and  so  earthy  in  our  affections,  that  we  discern  but  the  first  ele- 
ments of  thy  nature  ;  but  even  this  little  is  full  of  glory  and  full  of  joy.  Tet  who  shall  understand 
the  greatness  of  thy  power,  and  the  wonders  of  thy  goodness,  that,  still  unfolding,  shall  flow 
down  as  the  histories  of  eternal  life.  All  the  vast  income  of  thy  nature  is  ours  ;  all  the  grandness 
of  thy  nature  is  for  us  ;  and  we  are  yet,  through  manifold  sufferings,  through  much  teaching  and 
tribulation,  to  come  to  this  knowledge.  Nowit  doth  not  appear ;  but  it  shall.  Blessed  be  thy 
name  that  the  means  of  light  are  growing  more  and  more.  Blessed  be  thy  name  that,  as  watch- 
ers in  tlie  night,  we  are  beholding  the  east,  and  we  see  how  steadily  the  twilight  is  gaining  on 
the  darkness.  We  are  going  toward  home.  We  know  it  by  the  brightness  of  hope,  by  the  up- 
Epringing  of  joy  within  us.  We  listen  as  they  that  wait  for  the  singing  of  birds  in  the  early  day. 
And  shall  there  not  yet  come  to  us  here,  wafted  as  from  the  heavenly  city,  the  influences  of  those 
harpers  that  harp  upon  their  harps  therein  ?  Shall  we  not  know  thee  as  those  that  have  gone  out 
from  among  us  now  do,  singing,  as  it  were,  from  the  boughs  of  the  tree  of  life,  fledglings  that 
have  left  our  nest  and  us  desolate,  but  are  with  God,  beautiful,  strong,  and  musical  beyond  any 
thing  that  ever  was  known  upon  the  earth  in  the  sweetest  music  ?  Do  we  not  hear  the  voices 
again  of  those  that  did  on  earth  speak  ?  Are  we  not  brought  so  near  that  the  whisper  of  eternal 
spring  is  wafted  from  off  the  battlements  of  heaven  to  our  conscious  spirits  ? 

What  mean  all  these  invitations  ?  Are  these  not  beckoning  hands,  if  we  could  but  behold 
them  ?  Are  these  not  longing  hearts  that  wait  to  greet  us,  if  we  could  but  discern  as  they  can  ? 
Why  are  we  weary,  why  are  we  growing  infirm,  why  is  the  sight  failing  and  the  ear  growing 
heavy,  why  is  the  hand  weaker  and  the  foot  tremulous,  but  that  our  youth  is  almost  over  ?  As 
we  are  coming  less  and  less  to  need  these  bodily  organs,  thou  art  giving  us  the  sacred  intimation 
that  they  are  soon  to  be  laid  aside.  And  in  the  triumph  of  faith,  in  the  greatness  of  our  hope,  in 
the  uplifting  of  our  joy,  and  in  those  sacred  ministrations,  secret  and  mysterious  at  times,  are  we 
not  being  taught  by  thy  Great  Spirit  that  we  are  almost  done  with  the  school,  and  are  soon  to  go 
back  home  to  our  Father's  house  ?  We  thank  thee  for  the  exile,  we  thank  thee  for  the  instruc- 
tion ;  but  we  shall  yet  thank  thee  with  unutterable  joy,  we  shall  yet  stand  before  thee  filled  with 
thanksgiving,  that  we  are  permitted  to  come  again,  and  to  enter  into  thy  sacred  presence,  and  into 
the  precincts  of  thy  home. 

Blessed,  O  Lord  God  I  are  they  that  know  thee,  and  are  known  of  thee ;  and  wretched  are  they 
whom  the  world  is  crowning,  and  caressing,  and  encircling,  and  causing  to  give  up  all  of  them- 
selves that  is  joyful  and  pure  for  pitiful  earthly  possessions.  Oh  !  arouse  those  that  are  taking 
their  whole  joy  in  this  world.  Awaken  in  the  souls  of  those  that  are  filled  with  ambition,  and 
that  swell  high  with  the  hope  of  youth,  those  desires  which  shall  set  their  ambition  stiU  higher, 
and  make  them  yet  more  covetous  of  sacred  joy. 

We  beseech  of  thee,  O  Lord  1  that  thou  wilt  draw  near,  this  morning,  to  those  who  have 
walked  the  way  of  life  till  time  hath  whitened  their  hair ;  who  are  beginning  to  pass  down  upon 
the  other  side,  and  yet  have  no  God,  and  have  no  right  to  say.  Our  Father ;  who  are  yet  feeding 
npon  the  husks  without  a  thought  of  their  degradation  and  emptiness,  and  without  a  thought  of 


SELF-CONCEIT  IN  MORALS.  887 

arising  and  returning  to  their  Father's  house.  Oh  !  that  thou  wouldst  this  day  speak  some  word  to 
their  souls.    Awal^en  in  them  that  longing  which  shall  bring  them  back  to  thee. 

Are  there  those  who,  in  the  burden  and  heat  of  the  day,  are,  by  their  care  and  daily  avoca- 
tions, hidden  from  thee  ?    Break  through  all  their  care  and  labor,  and  disclose  thyself  unto  such. 

Are  there  those  that,  in  the  morning  of  life,  in  the  plenitude  of  strength  and  buoyant  hope 
think  they  need  not  God  ?  O  Lord  !  we  pray  that  thou  wilt  incline  them  to  consecrate  the  dew  of 
their  youth  unto  thee,  that  all  the  days  of  their  life  they  may  walk  in  the  honored  service  of  their 
Lord  and  Sa^iour  Jesus  Christ. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  if  there  are  any  who  are  discouraged  ;  if  there  are  any  that  are  out  of  the 
way,  and  know  not  how  to  return  ;  if  there  are  any  whom  the  law  could  not  restrain  from  trans- 
gression, but  who,  having  transgressed,  find  the  law  thundering  against  reformation  and  terrify- 
ing their  souls,  oh  !  have  compassion  on  them.  And  as  they  can  not  come  to  thee,  O  thou  Shepherd  I 
search  for  them.  Come  to  seek  and  to  save,  and  bring  them  back  again,  the  triumphs  of  thy 
grace. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  listen,  this  morning,  to  the  prayers  of  parents.  How  many 
are  there  that,  this  morning,  utter  thanksgiving  1  Sanctify  their  grateful  hearts.  Make  them 
more  abundantly  grateful.  How  many  are  there  that  come  vyith  anxious  petitions,  desiring 
strength  and  wisdom  to  direct,  conscious  of  the  greatness  of  their  task  ?  Oh  !  that  they  might  feel 
that  they  are  leaning  upon  God,  and  that  he  will  never  leave  them,  nor  forsake  them. 

And  hear  the  cry  of  anguish.  Hear  that  which  is  unutterable.  O  Lord  God  !  thou  knowest 
the  secret  suffering  ;  thou  knowest  the  inward  crnciflxion  of  love  ;  and  we  beseech  of  thee  that 
thou  wilt  listen  to  those  that  can  not  speak,  nor  form  their  thoughts  and  feelings  into  shape,  but 
that  can  only  hold  up  hearts  wounded  and  anguished,  and  can  scarcely  say.  Behold,  and  judge, 
and  help  1  We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  help  all  such ;  that  thou  wilt  be  a  present  help  to 
them  in  time  of  trouble ;  that  thou  wilt  be  to  them  as  the  shadow  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary 
land  ;  as  a  fortress  and  refuge  into  which  they  may  run  ;  as  a  pavilion  in  which  thou  wilt  hide 
them  till  the  storm  be  overpast. 

We  beseech  thee  that  thou  wilt  grant  thy  blessing  to  rest  upon  all  those  hearts  of  love  that 
pray  one  for  another ;  and  upon  all  those  hearts  of  pity  that  pray  for  the  outcast,  and  wandering 
and  nncared  for ;  and  upon  all  those  hearts  of  grace  that  supplicate  in  behalf  of  the  whole  world 
which  lieth  in  wickedness.  Move  thy  people  more  and  more  to  prayer,  and  graciously  incline 
thine  ear,  and  abundantly  answer  their  petition. 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  thy  church  universal,  this  day,  may  receive  thy  benediction  May 
it  be  a  day  of  the  shining  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness.  Send  forth  thy  Gospel  into  all  our  land- 
Kaise  up  churches  in  waste  and  destitute  places.  Give  strength  to  those  that  are  established,  and 
yet  are  in  feebleness  and  infancy.  B^vnth  all  that  are  in  sickness  and  pain  and  poverty,  and 
that  yet  faithfully  bear  witness  to  the  Son  of  God.  And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  every 
where  promote  the  cause  of  righteousness  and  true  holiness.  Spread  intelligence  throughout 
our  land.  Bless  all  colleges,  all  seminaries  of  learning,  all  schools.  And  grant,  we  pray  thee, 
that  there  may  a  sanctifjang  influence  go  with  education,  and  that  the  conscience  as  well  as  the 
nnderstanding  may  be  trained  Godward. 

Bless  not  our  land  alone,  but  all  nations.  The  field  is  the  world.  Send  reapers  into  the  great 
harvest-field.  And  may  there  be  an  abundant  ingathering.  May  the  day  of  prediction  begin  to 
draw  near,  and  the  whole  earth  see  thy  salvation. 

We  ask  it  in  the  adorable  name  of  the  Beloved,  to  whom,  with  the  Father  and  the  Spirit,  shall 
be  praises  everlasting.    Amen. 


388  SELF-CONCEIT  IN  MORALS. 


PRAYER     AFTER    THE    SERMON. 

OtFB  Father,  we  beseech  thee  that  thou  -wilt  bless  the  word  of  exhortation.  May  it  alarm 
those  that  should  be  alarmed.  May  it  put  upon  more  earnest  and  sober  thonght  those  that  are 
trifling  with  their  souls.  We  beseech  of  thee  that  men  may  see,  not  that  morality  is  not  good,  but 
that  it  can  not  save  the  soul.  May  they  see  that  the  mightiness  of  salvation  can  be  achieved  only 
by  the  power  of  the  Highest.  Oh !  that  they  might  open  their  hearts  to  the  incoming  of  the  light 
of  God  I  Blessed  Spirit,  make  the  truth  powerful !  O  Spirit  of  God :  take  the  hearts  in  thine 
hands,  of  those  to  whom  this  truth  is  preached.  Break  dovni  their  opposition ;  break  through 
all  their  defenses  and  vails.  At  last  let  the  conviction  enter  their  souls,  "  We  are  undone  be- 
fore God  ;  and  only  the  grace  of  God  can  save  us."  Oh  I  out  of  this  deep  depression,  and  out  of 
this  self-renunciatior,  may  there  spring  up  a  sweet  and  enriching  hcpe  of  grace  ;  may  there  spring 
up  that  in  this  life  "s^-hich  shall  flourish  mightily  in  death,  and  gloriously  in  the  life  which  is  to 
come.    And  to  thy  lame  shall  he  the  praise,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit.    Atnen. 


XXV. 

MOEALITY    THE    BASIS    OF   PlETY. 


THE  FEAfi  or  MAN. 

No  fear  is  more  comtnoD   or  more   in- 

sidioue  than  that  which  caueee  a  man,  when 

he  has  marked   out   for  bimaelf  a  cnuree  of 

icht  conduct,  to  hsrtsa  himself  with  ques- 

pose  I 
Hkelibc 

that  I  shall  continue'  in  it?  If  I  enlist  in 
ihe  cause  of  pieiy,  fhall  I  not  bring  dishon- 
or upon  il?     If  I  makn  a  profrpsinn  of 


I'pion 

,  shall  I  not  make  urn 

tt^ra 

wnree  f 

the 

ide    I    pretend 

to   take?" 

There 

manj 

and  many  a  i 
I  could  live  a  c 

oci^ten 

ho  Bays.  "  If 
t  relifiious  U 

I  think  I  would  try  it 
live  a    life    that    wo 

hut  I 

Id    Oi 

W 

twieh 
Christ 

Just 
Juat 

Ihan  you  sre  < 
ae  thouph  the  o 

.mid  < 

ishot 

iDC 

or  Chr 

im  nop 
live  rip 

iJi^iIli,    nu. 


buw  be  may    tbiok,  nhai  hb 
huw  hu  shall  fiibbiiQ  bU  char^ 


■   Chiitch 

se  out  of  the  CtiurcliI  .Iiiet  as  ihoach 
were  not  all  children  of  God,  and  under 
!  law!     A   man    that    ataya  away  trom 


lutv  and  from  God,  diftbonors  the  cause  of 

BUCU.,,   Ill    Llr    , 

God.  whelhGi  be  ie  in  Ibe  Church  or  out  of 

t.     You  caoDot  b,  in-  half  so  much  diehon- 

li^ilcuj.     A 

or  nil  the  caii  =  o  nf  viiliie  Or  TPligioD  by  try- 

iclluw-iuou  tu 

*uiit  Uciiiay 

Vi~u  are  ti-.i  tri  in^  i-'  i"-o'mofe  it  at  all,  and 

are    nppnly    c.miiril.red    against    it.      You 

vSKJvcH  alij  d 

are  noiv  diegracine  it  as  ranch  as  if  can  be 

rlipgraced;  but  no  man  can  bring  dishonor 

""'■'■"   " 

on  relipion  who  really  tries  to  honor  it. 

If  when  a  mun  is  marchinp,  he  becomee 

weak,  and  falls  down,  men  may  jeer  him,  to 

»ie  sore,  but  they   never  call  him  a  coward. 

[llO    ii',i-=>...i,' 

Thoiigfb  he  falls  down  and  peU  gpcver  so 

F.i..ne.u, 

many  times,  if  he  strives  to  20  forward,  and 

bis  face  ia  always  io  ibc  direction  in  which 

ha  army  are  moving,  no  disgrace  attaches 

^!'"^'";j;^7, 

lobis  stutnbliog.     Aod  when  a  man  enters 

ipon  a  religious  life,   he  brings  no  disgrace 

- 

upon  rtliaici),  though,  as  a  repiilt  of  tempta- 

'  WhOBoever 

lons    and  weakneaee-.  and  old  habits,  he 

of  my  word!. 

n  etimoHv    by    hie  daily  conduct    that  hia 
heart  is  right. 
Suppose  a  man'a  temper  is  one  perpetual 

comtiuBlion,  euppoae  it  ia  so  irritable  that 


i  adulterous   and  ainfiil 

a!ao  shall   the   Son   of 

Man  he  ashamed,  when    he  corneth  i 


glory  of  hia  Father  v 


1  the  holy  angels." 
B  lurking 


rience  in  hie  life  Ibai 


you,  if  be  beara  g 


principle  in  him  which  is  wor 
igaiost  Ibis  trair,  you  honor  bit 
h  he  may  be  breaking  down  in  tl 
jt. 

3ian  doea  not  bring  dishonor  upon  r 
half  so  much  if  he  makes  an  cflort 
I  religious  life,  though  he  fails  in  tl 


of  bting  under  the  dumin 
eneu-y;  if  there  be  any  of  you  that  s 
consdous  of  being  held  back  Irom  duty  by 
it;  if  there  be  any  of  you  that  are  conscious 
ibat  your  life  has  never  leaved  out  and 
tilosf.omed  as  it  ought  to  have  done,  on  ac- 
conntofthia  blighting  intluence — tojoul 
apeak;  to  you  I  declare  that  the  fear  of  man 
brioga  a  snare  lo  your  80ul;_and  to  you  I 
repeat  the  words  of  your  Judge,  who  sends 
me  to  say  to  you,  lo  day,  "  Be  not  afraid  of 
thorn  that  hill  the  body,  and  after  that  have 
no  more  that  Ibey  can  do.  But  I  will  fore* 
warn  you  whom  ye  shall  fear;  Fear  bim 
which,  alter  he  batb  killed,  hath  power  to 
cast  into  hell;  yea,  I  eay  unto  you.  Fear 
him." — Rev.  Henry  Ward  Beeclur. 


le  rieka   they  wil'i  run  of  losing  their 
fleliauches   Ihe  moral  sense,  teach- 


:unlrol]ed 


MORALITY  THE  BASIS  OF  PIETY. 

SUNDAY  EVENING,  FEB.  28,  1869. 


"  That  ye  put  oflF  concerninor  the  former  conversation  the  old  man,  which  ia 
corrupt  according  to  the  deceitful  lusts  ;  and  be  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  your  mind ; 
and  that  ye  put  on  the  new  man,  which  after  God  is  created  in  righteousness  and 
true  holiness.  Wherefore,  putting  away  lying,  speak  every  man  truth  with  his 
neighbor :  for  we  are  members  one  of  another.  Be  ye  angry,  and  sin  not :  let  not 
the  sun  go  down  upon  your  wrath  :  neither  give  place  to  the  devil.  Let  him  that 
stole  steal  no  more  :  but  rather  let  him  labor,  working  with  his  hands  the  thing 
which  is  good,  that  he  may  have  to  give  to  him  that  needeth.  Let  no  corrupt 
communication  proceed  out  of  your  mouth,  but  that  which  is  good  to  the  use  of 
edifying,  that  it  may  minister  grace  unto  the  hearers.  And  grieve  not  the  holy 
Spirit  of  God,  whereby  ye  are  sealed  unto  the  day  of  redemption." — Era.  iv. 
23-^0. 


A  Christian  life,  here,  is  regarded  as  it  were  from  tlie  latent 
similitude  of  raiment.  As  a  beggar  puts  off  his  rags — his  tattered 
and  torn  habiliments — and  is  clothed  like  an  honored  man ;  so  we 
are  to  put  off  the  old  man,  and  his  deeds — clothing,  as  it  were — and 
put  on  the  new  man,  created  in  righteousness  and  true  holiness.  Or, 
as  one  that  has  been  in  an  infected  port  must  lay  aside  the  garments 
that  have  in  them  the  seed  of  disease,  and  be  clothed  afresh,  so  that 
he  shall  neither  carry  it  for  himself,  nor  contagion  for  others ;  so  we 
are  to  put  off  the  old,  and  put  on  the  new. 

But  you  will  observe  that  there  are  in  this  passage  which  I  have 
read,  inculcations  of  certain  fundamental  morals,  as  precedent  to  the 
full  work  of  God  in  the  soul.  Truth,  in  opposition  to  lies ;  honesty, 
in  opposition  to  craft  and  stealing  ;  purity,  in  opposition  to  all  man- 
ner of  corrupt  desires ;  general  integrity  and  uprightness — these  are 
inculcated  as  the  indisjiensable  prerequisites  of  Christian  life.  And 
the  Spirit  that  works  in  us,  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God  that  is  working 
for  the  development  of  a  higher  intellectual  and  spiritual  life,  is  not 
to  be  grieved  by  the  commission  of  these  former  vices  or  mischievous 
courses.  If  you  are  desirous  to  be  Christians,  if  the  Spirit  of  God  is 
working  in  you  the  higher  attributes  of  a  true  manhood,  see  to  it 
that  you  put  off  all  those  evil  tendencies,  every  one  of  those  corrupt 
inclinations,  or  otherwise  you  grieve  away  the  Spiiit  of  God. 
LEesoN :  Prov.  iv.  5-18.   Hymns  (Plymouth  Collection) :  Nos.  669,  564. 


390  MORALITY  TEE  BASIS  OF  PIETY. 

There  are  certain  simple  virtues  that  are  indispensable  to  true 
manhood ;  indispensable  to  prosperity  in  this  life,  permanent  and 
honoring  and  satisfying ;  indispensable  to  the  very  existence  of  reli- 
gion itself  as  a  practical  life  in  the  soul.  The  Scriptures  are  em- 
phatic on  this  point — that  certain  fundamental  moralities  must  pre- 
cede i^iety.  The  apostle  John  says,  "  If  a  man  say,  I  love  God,  and 
hateth  his  brother,  he  is  a  liar ;  for  he  that  loveth  not  his  brother, 
whom  he  hath  seen,  how  can  he  love  God,  whom  he  hath  not  seen?" 
Our  Saviour,  in  the  same  general  spirit,  says,  "  If  thou  bring  thy  gift 
to  the  altar,  and  there  rememberest  that  thy  brother  hath  aught  against 
thee,  leave  there  thy  gift  before  the  altar,  and  go  thy  way;  first  be 
reconciled  to  thy  brother,  and  then  come  and  offer  thy  gift."  In  both 
instances  the  thought  is  the  same.  There  are  certain  elements  of 
morality  which  must  precede  and  which  must  underlie  spirituality. 
Spirituality,  or  the  higher  disclosures  of  religious  sentiment,  without 
absolute  morality  under  them,  are  spurious,  worthless,  void.  The 
whole  teaching  of  Scrij^ture  in  this  respect,  is,  first,  that  morality 
alone  is  imperfect,  and  that  it  must  develop  itself  into  a  higher  spi- 
ritual frame.  Morality  does  not  save.  It  must  develop  itself  into 
spirituality  before  it  becomes  an  argument  of  salvation.  Secondly, 
with  equal  emphasis  does  the  Scripture  teach  that  all  religious  expe- 
riences— -joy,  visions,  ecstasies,  communion— must  have  under  then 
sound  morality,  or  they  are  like  blossoms  without  roots.  Spiritual 
ity  without  morality  is  rootless ;  and  morality  without  spirituality 
is  blossomless  and  fruitless.  There  must  be  the  one  and  the  other ; 
and  morality  comes,  in  the  order  of  time,  first.  It  not  only  is  earliest 
in  point  of  time,  but  is  earliest  psychologically.  We  develop  it  in 
our  way  up  to  a  higher  form  of  Christian  disposition  and  Christian 
life. 

There  are  four  spiritual  elements  which  I  shall  mention,  three  of 
which  I  shall  much  insist  upon,  which  should  precede  and  underlie 
all  other  experiences — fa-^i,  truth  ;  second,  honesti/ /  third,  Jidelit^  / 
{ovLi'th,  purity — these  four.  Taking  them  in  their  inverse  order,  by 
purity  I  understand  the  dominance  in  the  soul  of  the  higher  affections 
and  sentiments  over  the  lower  appetites  and  passions.  It  is  the  term 
that  antagonizes  with  a  life  of  lust  and  of  salacious  desire.  We 
mean  hj  purity,  the  predominance  of  the  affections  and  of  the  moral 
sentiments,  lij fidelity,  one  means,  in  a  general  way,  the  absolute 
faithfulness  of  men  to  trusts  reposed  in  them — that  tendency  in  a  man 
which  makes  it  sure  that  he  will  be  faithful  in  his  relations  to  others, 
and  in  all  his  trusts.  By  honesty,  I  mean  righteous,  equitable  deal- 
ing in  all  relations  between  man  and  man — not  what  the  law  requires, 
but  what  is,  according  to  a  man's  best  light,  right  between  man  and 
man.     By  truth,  is  meant  the  inward  love  of  that  which  is,  and  the 


MORALITY  TEE  BASIS  OF  PIETY.  391 

disposition  to  nse  the  truth  of  fact  and  the  truth  of  relation,  just  as 
they  are,  in  all  our  repi'esentations  among  men. 

These  qualities  must  exist  in  controlling  strength  in  ev^ry 
wortliy  character.  Truth  must  not  be  a  variable  quality  to  be  used 
when  prescribed,  as  medicine  is,  and  intermitted,  as  medicine  is. 
Truth  is  not,  either,  that  which  custom  alone  requires.  For  although 
custom  may  be  an  index  as  to  what  is  truth,  and  what  are  the 
ways  of  truth,  yet  it  must  be  truth  "  in  the  inward  parts,"  as  it 
is  expressed  in  another  Scripture.  It  must  be  the  love  of  it ;  the 
tendency  to  it;  a  habitual  desire  to  think  truth,  and  to  speak 
and  act  just  what  is  true — no  more,  no  other,  no  less.  It  is  the 
love  of  the  thing  itself,  as  well  as  the  use  of  it.  We  are  to  be 
honest,  to  be  faithful,  to  be  true,  and  to  be  pure,  to  such  a  degree 
that  we  shall  be  defended,  on  the  one  side,  negatively  from  evil, 
and  that  we  shall  have  the  formative  power,  on  the  other  side, 
of  these  qualities.  They  must  strike  through  and  -through  the  life 
and  the  disposition.  These  are  to  be  the  secret  forces  which 
shall  form  men's  characters.  Truthfulness,  honesty,  fidelity,  and 
purity — these  constitute  the  term  righttousness  /  and  a  righteous 
man  is  a  man  that  is  built  upon  these  four  great  qualities.  They 
will,  in  spite  of  all  covering,  determine  a  man's  reputation.  Your 
course  in  respect  to  truth,  honesty,  fidelity,  and  purity  will  determine 
your  character.  You  can  not  help  it.  No  man  can  say,  "  I  will 
shape  my  character  according  to  truth,  and  honesty,  and  fidelity,  and 
purity  ;  but  while  I  am  in  the  world  I  will  do  as  the  world  does,  and 
I  will  use  untruth,  and  I  will  use  dishonesty,  and  I  will  use  infidel- 
ity, according  to  circumstances — that  is,  when  I  am  pi-essed  out  of 
measure,  and  can  not  help  it — unwillingly,  to  be  sure;  but,  never- 
theless, I  will  take  it."  Just  as  a  man  unwillingly  takes  debased 
currency,  saying,  "  Oh  !  it  is  better  than  nothing,"  so  men  sometimes 
think  they  will,  when  trading  with  the  world,  deal  thus  in  worldly 
qualities.  But  though  they  mean  themselves  to  be  inwardly  men 
of  truth  and  honest}',  the}' can  not  make  anj^such  compromise.  That 
which  you  use,  is  that  which  you  will  be  ;  and  your  character  will  be 
determined  by  your  custom  in  regard  to  truth,  honesty,  fidelity,  and 
purity.  And  if,  for  the  sake  of  getting  along  with  the  world,  you 
employ  the  counterparts  of  these,  the  counterparts  will  stamp  them- 
selves on  your  character,  and  your  character  will  be  framed  upon 
them.  ' 

What  a  mariJs  character  is,  that,  with  exceptional  instances,  his 
reputation  will  be — a  thing  that  few  men  can  be  made  to  believe. 
All  men  believe  that  they  can  have  one  character  and  another  repu- 
tation. Men  believe  that  they  can  be  proud,  but  that  they  can  so 
deftly  conceal  it  that  they  shall  have  the  reputation  of  being  good 


392  MOBALITY  TEE  BASIS  OF  PIETY. 

fellows — not  proud.  Men  believe  that  they  can  lie,  but  that  they 
can  have  the  reputation  of  being  truth-speakers — they  mean  to  do  it 
so  adroitly,  so  dexterously.  Men  believe  that  they  can  be  impure, 
and  yet  have  virtuous  reputations — they  mean  to  have  such  skill, 
such  adroitness,  in  these  things.  So  men  believe  that  they  can  prac- 
tice one  schedule  of  moral  qualities,  and  have  the  reputation  of  pos- 
sessing another  schedule  of  moral  qualities.  But  an  odious  stench 
might  just  as  well  attempt  to  pass  itself  off  in  life  for  a  grateful  per- 
fume, as  opposite  moral  qualities  attempt  to  pass  themselves  off  for 
their  antitheses.  If  you  live  by  the  sacrifice  of  the  truth  ;  if  you 
have  become  so  accustomed  to  untruth  that  it  is  almost  a  matter  of 
indifference  to  you,  your  character  will  be  formed  on  untruth  ;  and 
as  your  character  is  formed  on  it,  your  re^Dutation  will  be  reflected 
from  that  point  of  character.  If  you  are  a  man  of  dishonesty,  secret- 
ly, occasionally,  or  when  occasion  requires,  you  will  have  a  reputation 
for  that.  You  can  not  hide  it.  You  may  think  that  people  do  not 
know  it,  but  they  will  be  talking  about  it  behind  your  back.  They 
may  not,  perhaps,  be  bold  enough,  or  honest  enough,  to  say  it  to 
your  face  ;  but  that  will  be  your  reputation. 

Men  inquire  respecting  each  other's  characters ;  and  it  would  be 
very  humiliating  to  hear  men  speak  of  us,  unless  w' e  are  just,  and  up- 
right, and  pure,  and  true,  and  good.  Worldly  men,  taking  the  world 
as  it  goes,  would  not  hear  much  that  was  flattering  to  themselves. 

Listen  to  men  as  they  describe  their  fellow-men.  Ask  a  man,  in 
respect  to  his  neighbor,  "  Is  he  a  man  of  character  ?"  "  Yes,"  he  re- 
plies, "  he  has  a  good  standing  in  the  Street."  "  You  mean  by  that, 
that  he  will  pay  his  obligations  ?"  "  I  think  he  will,  in  all  ordinary 
circumstances.  Yes,  I  think  ordinarily  he  will."  "Is  he  a  man  of  un- 
blemished probity  ?"  "  Well,  yes,  I  suppose  he  is  about  like  the  av- 
erage of  men.  I  suppose  he  prefers  truth."  "  But,  do  you  regard  a 
thing  as  absolutely  so  because  he  says  it  ?"  "  Well,  no,  I  do  not.  If 
he  says  it,  and  circumstances  concur,  I  always  believe  it."  But  the 
circumstances  which  are  required  to  believe  a  man  are  most  unfortu- 
nately damaging  to  his  reputation.  He  is  supposed  to  know  Avhat  he 
does  know ;  and  a  man  whom  you  can  not  believe  unless  circumstan- 
ces back  up  his  word — what  kind  of  a  reputation  has  he  ? 

As  it  is  in  the  matter  of  truth,  so  is  it  in  the  matter  of  honesty. 
"  Is  he  an  honest  man  ?"  "  Oh !  I  do  not  think  he  w^ould  steal."  "  But 
is  he  an  honest  man?  Would  he  knowingly  take  advantage?" 
"  Well,  it  is  not  for  me  to  say."  It  is  for  you  to  say.  You  have  said 
it.  Not  to  be  able  to  say  the  contrary  is  to  say  that.  And  are  thei-e 
not  hundreds  of  thousands  of  men  who  hold  their  heads  up  very 
well  as  they  move  in  society,  who  are  for  the  time  being  prosperous^, 
and  of  w^hom  those  that  know  them  say,  "  They  will  take  every  ad 


MOBALITT  THE  BASIS  OF  PIETY.  393 

vantage  they  can ;  they  will  bear  watching ;  they  need  watching  ; 
they  need  all  that  the  church  gives  them,  and  all  that  the  customs  of 
society  give  them,  to  keep  them  from  dishonesty." 

A  man's  reputation  always  tracks  him,  and  follows  him ;  and  if  it 
is  in  him  to  be  dishonest,  it  is  in  other  peojile  to  know  it.  Your  re- 
putation is  only  the  shadow  that  your  character  throws.  So  that  if  a 
man  is  void  in  regard  to  these  fundamental  elements — truth,  honesty, 
fidelity,  trustworthiness,  and  pitrity,  he  can  not  by  any  cloak  disguise 
it,  or  by  any  guUe  secrete  it.  He  will  have  the  reputation  of  it. 
And  so  these  qualities  form  character.  And  character  forms  reputa- 
tion. 

Now,  on  character  and  reputation  a  man's  prosperity  depends  in 
this  world,  largely.  These  qualities,  therefore,  may  be  said  to  de- 
termine a  man's  prosperity  in  secular  things.  They  make  you,  if 
you  possess  them,  trustworthy.  The  rarest  thing  in  this  world  is  a 
competent  man  who  is  wholly  trustworthy ;  a  man  who  is  so  true,  so 
honest,  so  faithful,  that  you  can  put  yourseK  and  your  interests  ou 
him,  and  be  sure  that  you  have  not  trusted  wi'ongly.  A  man  that 
will  bear  that  pressure ;  a  man  who  is  like  the  timber  of  a  bridge  that 
will  carryover  men,  and  maidens,  and  little  children,  and  heavy  loads, 
and  light  ones,  and  not  give  way  under  them  and  let  them  down  into 
the  stream ;  a  man  that  is  trustworthy,  that  you  can  bring  pressure  to 
bear  on,  and  that  will  sustain  the  pressiire — such  a  man  is  more  pre- 
cious than  the  gold  of  Ophir.  Trustworthiness  like  this  is  not  fre- 
quent— it  is  rare.  Therefore  when  a  man  is  trustworthy,  he  is  invalu- 
able in  the  sight  of  men. 

It  seems  very  strange  that  it  should  be  so,  because  men  are  so  busy 
trying  to  make  their  fellow-men  imtrustworthy.  The  head  merchant 
tampers  with  the  truthfulness  of  his  clerk  ;  that  is  to  say,  he  tries  to 
make  his  clerk  lie.  And  yet  he  loves  truth  in  a  young  man.  He 
values  it.  The  merchant  attempts  to  make  his  clerk  prevaricate  to  his 
customer,  and  practice  dishonesty ;  and  yet  he  values  honesty.  But 
the  fact  is,  he  does  not  believe  that  the  young  man  is  true;  he  does 
not  believe  that  he  is  honest ;  he  does  not  believe  that  he  is  faithful. 
He  therefore,  as  it  were,  tempts  him.  He  puts  him  up  to  do  dishonest 
things,  and  he  supjDOses  that  he  will  do  them ;  and  if  he  is  to  do  them, 
he  would  rather  that  he  should  do  them  on  others  than  on  him. 
But  if  he  finds  that  he  will  not  lie,  he  thinks,  at  first,  "  This  is  the  green- 
ness of  youth,"  and  he  tempts  him  again  and  again.  And  if,  under 
various  jDressure,  he  finds  that  the  young  man  does  love  the  truth,  that 
there  is  a  principle  in  it,  he  says  to  himself,  "I  wonder  if  that  is  a 
sham.  Something  may  be  made  of  that  young  man  if  it  is  genuine." 
Did  you  ever  know  a  merchant,  in  choosing  a  confidential  clerk,  to 
choose  the  sharpest,  the  lyingest,  the  most  dishonest  clerk  he  ever  had  in 


894  MORALITY  TEE  BASIS  OF  PIETY. 

his  employ  ?  "WTien  a,  merchant  goes  to  choose  his  confidential  (;lerk, 
does  he  not  always  choose  a  man  that  will  not  lie,  and  can  not  be  made 
to  ;  that  will  not  betray  a  tnist,  and  can  not  be  made  to  ?  "When  men  set 
out  to  bnild  foundations  that  will  bear  uj)  heavy  loads,  they  want 
sound,  solid  timber — they  want  oak;  but  men  do  not  believe  that 
these  qualities  are  common.  Therefore,  they  play  with  men  as  if  they 
were,  of  course,  to  be  dealt  with  as  being,  in  varying  degrees,  untrue, 
dishonest,  unfaithful  to  trust.  But  when  a  man  has  been  proved; 
when  he  has  been  seasoned ;  when  he  has  been  tried  in  summer  and  in 
"winter,  and  these  qualities  are  found  to  be  ingrained  in  him,  his  price 
is  above  rubies.  There  is  nothing  so  precious  or  so  scarce  in  the  mar- 
ket. Nothing  is  more  in  demand.  There  is  nothing  that  every  bank 
wants  more,  there  is  nothing  that  every  broker  wants  more,  there  is 
nothing  that  every  great  mercantile  firm  wants  more,  there  is  nothing 
that  is  more  desirable  everywhere,  than  men  of  intelligence  who  can 
not  be  tempted,  bribed,  broken,  nor  swayed.  There  are  no  other  men 
so  precious  in  a  commercial  community. 

These  qualities — truth,  honesty,  fidelity,  and  piirity — can  not  be  sim- 
nlated  long.  But  if  they  are  in  you,  if  they  are  thorough-bred,  if 
they  are  ingrained  and  inseparable  from  your  life  and  character,  men 
will  know  it,  and  your  jjrosperity  will  stand  in  them.  For  where  they 
exist,  and  from  year  to  year  develoj^  themselves,  without  variableness 
or  shadow  of  turning,  they  will  excite  the  good-will  and  the  sym- 
pathy of  men,  and  incline  them  to  help  you,  and  not  to  hinder  you — 
and  this  is  a  great  deal  in  life.  Many  men  are  ground  down  by 
friction,  Theii*  moral  delinquencies,  more  or  less,  involve  them  in  an- 
tagonisms, in  rivalries,  and  in  various  complications  with  theu'  fel- 
low-men, so  that  their  chariot-wheels  draw  heavily.  Simplicity,  di- 
rectness, honorableness,  honor,  under  all  circumstances  when  requii'ed 
— these  things  men  are  disposed,  rather  than  otherwise,  to  help — cer- 
tainly, when  their  own  interest  does  not  stand  in  the  way. 

The  man  who  has  the  good-will  and  the  good-nature  of  the  men 
among  whom  he  lives,  of  the  society  in  w^hich  he  dwells,  is  like  a 
craft  that  has  the  wind  astern,  and  is  helped  thereby.  Where  a  man 
is  believed  to  be  seeking  his  own,  to  be  selfish — meanly  selfish ;  craft- 
ily selfish ;  untruthfully  selfish  ;  unfaithfully  selfish — every  body  is  his 
enemy,  and  every  body  says,  "  I  like  to  give  him  a  clij^ ;  I  like  to  see  him 
stumble  ;  I  like  to  know  that  he  has  gone  down."  And  for  a  man  to 
try  to  go  through  a  great  community  that  feel  so  toward  him,  is  like 
trying  to  beat  in  the  teeth  of  the  wind.  It  makes  his  way  zigzag, 
long,  and  laborious.  Tour  prosperity  in  life  largely  depends  upon 
the  good-will  and  confidence  and  symj^athy  of  those  with  whom  you 
deal.  Truth,  honesty,  fidelity,  and  purity  win  confidence.  And  there 
is  this  capital  for  a  young  man. 


MOBALITT  TEE  BASIS  OF  PIETY.  395 

These  qualities,  too,  simplify  the  working  forces  of  life.  A  crafty, 
plotting  man  always  has  a  tangled  skein  in  his  hand.  He  has  to  think, 
"  What  did  I  say  yesterday  ?"  and  he  forgets.  He  has  to  think, "  Let 
me  see ;  did  I,  or  did  I  not,  cheat  on  this  or  that  occasion  ?"  A  dishonest 
man  has  to  keep  a  journal,  or  he  will  be  perpetually  running  across 
his  own  tracks.  No  man's  memory  is  good  enough  journal  for  such  a 
purpose  as  that.  And  a  man  constantly,  in  carrying  out  his  plans,  and 
dealing  with  men,  oversteps,  or  understeps,  and  becomes  careless  and 
insensitive,  and  at  last  misinterj^rets,  and  loses  the  power  of  judging 
men — and  that,  too,  in  proportion  as  men  are  honest  and  upright. 

His  life  becomes  exceedingly  complicated.  And  wdien  the  times 
threaten,  the  man  is  full  of  anxiety  and  fear.  But  a  simple-mind- 
ed man,  that  is  true,  that  is  honest,  that  is  trustworthy  by  reason  of 
his  fidelity,  has  none  of  these  complicated  problems.  He  asks  himself, 
"  What  is  right  ?"  and  never  has  to  go  back  and  think, "  What  did  I  say  ?" 
or,  "  What  did  I  do  ?"  or,  "  What  snare  did  I  lay  ?"  or, "  What  trap 
have  I  set  ?"  or,  "  What  course  have  I  pursued  ?"  or,  "  Where  have  I 
left  my  tracks  ?"  That  has  nothing  to  do  with  it.  He  says, "  I  did  what 
I  thought  was  right,  and  spoke  what  I  thought  was  true ;  and  I  leave 
all  that  to  Providence."    And  he  has  a  simple  way  to  walk  in. 

In  early  life  men  do  not  understand  these  things ;  but  there  are  a 
great  many  men  who  later  in  life  have  had  occasion  to  say,  "  If  I 
could  begin  my  life  over  again,  I  would  not  saddle  upon  myself  such 
grievous  burdens  and  carry  such  annoying  responsibilities  as  go 
with  craft,  and  deceit,  and  plotting,  and  chicanery." 

Men  are  made  safe,  too,  by  these  simple  and  sterling  virtues.  He 
certainly  is  safe,  who,  whether  he  be  at  the  top  or  at  the  bottom,  alike 
is  prosperous ;  but  when  a  man's  prosperity  turns  largely  upon  his  ac- 
tual manhood,  his  manhood  does  not  depend  upon  his  relative  posi- 
tion in  regard  to  wealth.  "  A  man's  life,"  our  Saviour  says,  "  consist- 
eth  not  in  the  abundance  of  the  things  which  he  possesseth."  A  man 
that  is  rich  without  a  good  character  and  without  a  good  reputation 
is  not  safe,  as  he  is  not  happy.  I  scorn,  I  spit  upon,  the  notion  that  a 
man  can  be  made  happy  by  simply  being  made  rich,  while  he  is  rot- 
ten in  his  heart,  ragged  in  his  morals,  deceitful  in  his  ways,  full  of  all 
manner  of  verminous  immoralities.  Tell  me  not,  until  the  courses  of 
nature  have  gone  backward,  until  God  is  forsworn,  imtil  nature  itself 
is  turned  bottom-side  up,  that  such  a  man  is  to  be  envied  on  account 
of  happiness.  Show  me  the  men  that  are  bloated  with  sudden  w^ealth, 
and  are  rolling  in  a  sea  of  slimy  pleasures,  and  I  mark  them  for  sud- 
den destruction  and  downfall.  Woe  be  to  the  young,  inexperienced, 
and  callow  creature  that  envies  them,  or  is  tempted  to  go  out  of  the 
way  of  integrity  in  order  to  be  happy !  Look  upon  those  base,  loath- 
some, lazar-house  men.     They  may  have  prosperity  for  a  moment,  that 


396  MORALITY  THE  BASIS  CF  PIETY 

they  may  have  overthrow  and  destruction  forever  and  forever.  But  a 
man  that  has  simplicity,  honesty,  truthfuhiess,  purity,  and  fidelity, 
whether  he  be  rich  or  poor,  is  prosperous.  He  carries  his  kingdom  in 
his  heart ;  he  carries  his  kingdom  above  in  his  head — the  kingdom 
of  God.  All  holy  intelligences  are  round  about  him.  God  is  his 
friend.  Providence  is  his  friend.  Life,  however  it  may  be,  deals 
kindly  with  him.  Death  itself  shall  be  to  him  but  a  translation.  In 
the  long  run,  these  simple  moral  qualities  insure  success,  because  they 
insure  good  judgment,  fair  dealing,  and  uprightness  among  men. 
Men  are  not  accustomed,  as  much  as  they  profitably  might  be,  to  con- 
sider how  largely  moral  elements  enter  into  what  is  called  good  judg- 
ment. 

Good  judgment  is  to  business  what  good  steering  is  to  navigation. 
There  are  many  men  that  are  skillful,  that  are  active,  that  are  in- 
dustrious, but  that  fail ;  and  men  say,  "  They  lack  good  judgment." 
The  difference  between  one  man  and  another  is  sometimes  defined  to 
be  a  want  of  will  and  energy ;  but  of  men  that  are  energetic,  and  that 
have  powerful  wills,  men  say,  one  is  better  than  another ;  one  is  far 
superior  to  the  other.  And  then  men  discriminate  again,  and  say, 
"  There  is  a  difference  between  one  another's  judgments." 

Judgment,  as  it  is  supposed  to  be,  and  as  it  is,  depends  largely  upon 
a  balance  of  the  reflective  and  perceptive  intellect — acquaintance 
with  things.  Drill  and  education  in  things,  too,  is  an  element  of 
judgment.  But  all  forces  are  more  or  less  connected  with  men.  We 
are  seldom  called  to  deal  in  matters  which  we  consider  simply  in 
their  own  physical  relations,  or  in  the  relations  which  they  sustain  to 
physical  law.  The  human  element  comes  in,  in  all  our  active  aftairs  of 
life.  So  that  our  judgment  requires  that  we  should  have,  not  simply 
judgment  of  qualities  and  things,  but  right  perceptions  of  men  m 
combinations  in  which  the  human  element  is  involved. 

In  this  direction  good  judgment  almost  invariably  comes  from 
sound  moral  qualities,  and  is  vitiated  by  the  want  of  them.  There  are 
hundreds  of  men  whose  mistakes  of  judgment  come  from  their  cor- 
ruptness of  heart ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  men  that  are  calm,  men  that 
are  pure-minded,  men  that  are  not  easily  controlled  by  excitement,  are 
men  of  perspicacious  minds  and  solid  judgments.  Because  they  are 
good,  the  malign  element  does  not  warp,  bias,  nor  distort  their 
judgments  ;  and  the  moral  element  clarifies.  They  have  a  single  eye, 
as  it  is  called  in  Scripture ;  and  the  light  that  is  in  them  is  liffht,  and 
not  darkness. 

A  reputation,  then,  for  good  judgment,  for  fair  dealing,  for  truth, 
and  for  rectitude,  is  itself  a  fortune.  Oh  !  how  much  better  a  good 
name  is  than  precious  ointment  or  than  great  riches  !  How  many 
men  there  are.  that  the  whole  world  praises,  who  are  poor — very 


MORALITY  THE  BASIS  OF  PIETY.  397 

poor !     There  is  the  man  of  the  Island,  Garibaldi,  just  making  the 
ends  meet ;  just  gaining  his  raiment  and  food  ;  refusing  bribes,  refus- 
ing gifts,  refusing  all  overtures  of  greatness  that  are  in  the  lower 
sphere ;   a  man  that  lives  with  a  magnificent  ambition  of  patriotism 
and  a  perpetual  sacrifice  of  himself.     And  there  is  his  great  proto- 
type, one  of  the  noblest  of  spirits  of  which  the  world  is  not  worthy — 
Louis  Kossuth — broken  down  prematurely,  long  in  exile,  but  now  at 
home  again,  and  refusing  every  thing  for  his  country  but  indepen- 
dence and  liberty,  and  not  willing  to  be  rich,  not  willing  to  be  great 
in  any  way  that  implies  the  yielding  of  his  innermost  convictions. 
When  all  the  stuff  that  we  call  men  in  our  day — the  buyable,  the 
bribable  stuff — is  washed  away  in  the  sewer,  such  men  as  these  will 
stand,  and  their  names  shall  be  held  in  everlasting  remembrance. 
The  memory  of  the  wicked  shall  rot.     The  name  of  the  righteous 
shall  shine  brighter  and  brighter  until  the  very  perfect  day.     A  man 
that  has  a  good  name,  and  has  a  good  reputation  based  on  good  cha- 
racter, is  a  rich  man.     That,  and  that  alone,  makes  him  rich.     I  do  not 
wish  to  excite  contempt,  and  certainly  not  censoriousness  and  unchar- 
itable remark,  against  persons  that  are  living,  and  are,  in  a  certain  out- 
ward sense,  prosperous ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  I  am  bound  to  reite- 
rate to  the  young  people  of  my  congregation  the  charge  of  Scripture, 
that  you  do  not  envy  the  prosperity  of  the  wicked,  and  that  you  do  not 
deem  those  men  fortunate  or  prosperous  who,  at  the  expense  of  every 
thing  that  makes  a  noble  manhood,  have  heaped  up  outward  wealth 
round  about  themselves. 

These  simple  moral  fundamental  qualities  facilitate  truly  religi- 
ous experience.  They  are  not  religion,  but  they  are  like  John  Bap- 
tist to  Christ  in  the  human  soul.  A  man  who  is  a  liar,  and  a  thief,, 
and  an  untrustworthy,  treacherous  person,  and.  impure,  may  be  con- 
verted, and  may  enter  into  the  kingdom  of  God;  but  it  will  be 
through  much  tribulation,  and  he  Avill  enter  the  kingdom  of  God 
as  by  fire  ;  but  when  the  claims  of  God  are  brought  before  a  man  who 
has  trained  himself  to  exact  truth,  to  absolute  honesty,  to  infrangible 
fidelity,  and  to  clear  moral  purity,  the  transition  from  the  state  of 
morals  to  the  state  of  true  faith  and  true  spirituality  is  easy  and 
natural.  The  man  who  lives  a  moral  life  has  a  better  chance  for  reli- 
gion, if  he  is  faithful  to  himself,  than  he  would  have  if  he  lived  a  care- 
tess  life — certainly  better  than  he  would  have  if  he  lived  an  immoral 
and  treacherous  life.  And  though  these  qualities — honesty,  truth, 
fidelity,  and  purity — are  not  religion,  they  stand  so  intimately  con- 
nected with  religion  that  they  may  be  called  the  John  Baptist  to 
Christ,  as  I  said  ;  for  they  lead  speedily,  througli  repentance,  into  the 
kingdom  of  God. 

In  application  of  these  views  and  reasonings  I  remark: 


398  MOUALITT  THE  BASIS  OF  PIETY. 

1.  How  few  can  stand  an  examination  on  these  fundamental 
points,  if  they  take  the  law  of  God  as  their  light  and  their  test !  And 
we  are  not  to  ask  whether  we  are  honest  as  the  world  goes ;  whether 
we  are  honest  according  to  the  style  of  our  fellow-men.  We  have 
something  besides  the  transient,  movable  standards  of  this  world  to 
measure  by.  We  are  born  under  the  light  of  God's  revealed  will ;  and 
the  law  of  God  deals  with  the  thoughts,  and  with  the  intents  of  the 
heart;  and  we  are  to  try  ourselves, not  by  the  fugitive  and  fallacious 
standards  of  this  world,  but  by  the  immovable  standards  of  divine 
truth. 

How  many  men  can  say,  "  Truth  is  the  law  of  my  life  and  disposi- 
tion ;  I  love  it ;  I  mean  it ;  I  invariably  use  it ;  it  is  my  absolute  law  "  ? 
How  many  can  say,  standing  before  God,  "  I  never  equivocate ;  I 
never  suppress ;  I  never  intentionally  use  the  truth  to  throw  a  sha- 
dow which  tells  a  lie ;  I  believe  in  truth  itself,  under  all  circum- 
stances ;  I  have  faith  in  it ;  I  trust  it "  ?  How  many  are  there 
who  can  say  this  ?  How  many  are  there  that  can  say,  "  I  believe 
in  honesty — not  simply  in  being  as  honest  as  the  law  requires  me  to 
be,  or  as  the  customs  of  my  business  allow.  I  study  to  be  absolutely 
honest  as  before  God.  I  attempt  to  live  by  the  Golden  Rule.  No 
matter  whether  other  men  in  my  business  take  this  or  that  advantage, 
I  apply  the  law  of  absolute  conscience  to  my  transactions,  and  do  it 
habitually.  I  am  bound  to  be  honest.  I  will  not  prosper  by  any  other 
course.     If  I  prosper  at  all,  it  must  be  by  strict,  rigid  honesty  "  ? 

How  many  men  can  test  themselves  in  the  matter  of  fidelity — 
one  of  the  rarest  and  noblest  of  true  manly  traits  ?  Before  our 
friends'  faces,  how  faithful  we  are  in  our  words !  How  large  is  our 
profession !  But  how  many  of  us  are  true  and  faithful  to  the  real 
interests  of  our  friends  ?  How  many  of  us  are  golden  in  the  relations 
which  we  sustain  to  each  other  ?  When  we  look  at  the  play  of  duty 
between  man  and  man — and  that,  too,  in  the  light  of  the  law  of  love, 
and  in  the  light  of  the  honor  of  God — how  many  of  us  can  say,  "  I 
have  the  reputation,  and  I  have  the  character  of  being  a  faithful 
man"?  It  is  a  day-of-judgment  business  for  a  man  to  bring  home 
to  himself,  as  tests  of  his  character,  these  simple  elements  of  moral- 
ity. If  you  lay  aside  the  great  scheme  of  religion,  perfect  love  to 
God,  all  the  disclosures  and  developments  of  love,  and  come  down 
to  the  simplest  elements  of  morality — truth,  honesty,  fidelity,  and  pu- 
rity— ^how  many  men  can  take  these  qualities,  and,  interpreting  them 
in  the  light  of  divine  law,  measure  their  character,  their  words,  their 
daily  dispositions,  the  thoughts  and  intents  of  their  hearts,  and  say, 
"  Thou,  God,  seest  me,  and  knowest  that  I  am  pure.  Judge  me,  O 
God,  according  to  my  integrity  "  ?     No,  no !     Men  would  sooner  ask 


MORALITY  THE  BASIS  OF  PIETY.  399 

God  to  hurl  thunderbolts  at  them,  than  to  judge  them  according  to 
their  integrity. 

I  fear  that  there  are  fewer  model  men  in  this  regard  among  us, 
than  even  in  many  other  lands ;  because  truth  and  honor  in  certain 
classes  of  society  are  the  badges  of  the  class.  There  is  a  training 
that  makes  a  nobleman,  in  some  lands,  so  utterly  disgraced  by  any 
thing  else  than  manliness,  and  lifts  him  so  far  above  ordinary  tempta- 
tions, that  it  is  easy  for  him  to  tell  the  truth,  and  to  take  on  certain 
moral  excellences  that  go  with  truth-speaking.  But  with  us  there 
are  no  classes,  and  there  are  no  particular  qualities  stamped  and  fixed 
upon  one  and  another  set  of  men.  "We  are  scrambling  all  together 
in  a  democratic  community ;  and  the  ideal  of  character  is  very  low 
— very  low  in  cities,  and  very  low  in  the  country.  Commerce  makes 
it  low ;  politics  makes  it  low  ;  and  pleasure  makes  it  low.  We  have 
a  very  low  standard.  And,  even  low  as  it  is,  it  is  in  danger  of  being 
still  more  adulterated — of  being  carried  down  still  further.  Many 
were  the  generous  instincts  developed  by  the  war.  That  furnace 
from  which  men  came  out  purified,  and  like  refined  gold,  seemed  to 
do  a  work  of  regeneration  for  this  nation.  But  the  mighty  tempta- 
tions of  money,  and  ambitions  through  money,  have  been  brought  to 
bear  upon  the  community  to  such  a  degree,  that,  unless  there  is  a 
speedy  change,  it  seems  to  me  that  all  we  gained  of  morality  by  the 
war,  we  shall  lose  by  the  after  experiences  of  the  war,  and  that  we 
shall  be  carried  away  as  by  a  flood.  It  is  time  for  men  to  have  a 
higher  conception  of  character,  and  of  what  is  becoming  to  them — 
not  merely  of  what  a  thing  is  worth  in  the  market,  but  of  what  is 
right,  what  is  true,  what  is  just,  and  what  is  manly. 

2.  Not  less,  perhaps  more,  is  required  of  women  than  of  men. 
Their  relations  to  society,  their  relations  as  wives  and  mothers,  make 
it  peculiarly  desirable  that  they  should  be  fountains  and  models  of  vir- 
tue ;  that  their  imagination  should  be  as  pure  as  the  cloudless  sky  ; 
that  their  hearts,  and  all  their  moral  instincts,  should  be  so  true  as 
to  be  pointing  God  ward  evermore.  A  woman  that  will  not  be  a 
plaything  must  have  something  more  than  complexion,  and  some- 
thing more  than  the  guiles  and  sweet  deceits  of  charming  ways. 
These  do  well  for  children,  and  well  as  long  as  the  bloom  is  on  the 
cheek ;  but  the  moment  a  woman  comes  to  middle  life,  and  has  not 
the  reputation  of  being  soundly  trustworthy  as  a  friend  and  a  com- 
panion— has  not  the  reputation  of  being  true,  and  noble,  and  virtuous, 
and  good — can  any  thing  be  more  wretched  than  her  position  ?  Oh  ! 
how  many  lives  have  opened  as  into  the  very  spring,  Avith  all  promise 
of  love,  of  hope,  and  of  joy  ;  and  at  mid-life  have  had  all  tlie  marks 
of  discontent  and  repining  upon  their  brow,  and  all  the  syllables  of 
discontent  on  their  lips  !     Men  are  inconstant ;  life  is  frivolous ;  they 


400  MORALITY  THE  BASIS  OF  PIETY. 

are  no  longer  loved ;  they  are  no  longer  reverenced ;  tliey  are  no 
longer  looked  up  to  !  But  let  me  tell  yon,  no  woman  can  be  much 
degraded  from  the  hour  of  her  highest  aspiration  of  love,  who  has  a 
high  and  ideal  character  for  truth,  for  honesty,  for  fidelity,  for  moral 
soundness  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand,  I  do  not  care  how  much  incense 
is  sacrificed  at  the  altar  and  at  the  marriage  hour,  no  woman  can  retain 
the  fidelity  of  love,  no  woman  can  be  still  looked  up  to,  and  still 
loved  as  with  worship,  who  has  not  qualities  that  hold  on  to  respect. 
Loving  is  not  accident ;  still  less  is  it  fixte.  Nowhere  else  in  tlie  broad 
world  are  cause  and  eflTect  more  inseparable  than  in  the  realm  of 
love.  And  no  person  can  be  lovable  on  any  other  ground  than  that 
of  purity,  fidelity,  honesty,  and  truth.  And  the  w^eiglit  of  the  disaster 
of  delinquency  in  these  respects,  falls  nowhere  else  so  heavily  as  upon 
women ;  while  the  rebound  of  virtue  and  the  remuneration  of  recti- 
tude are  nowhere  more  apparent  than  among  women. 

The  appeal  which  I  make,  therefore,  to  young  men,  that  they 
base  their  lives  and  characters  on  these  sterling  moral  qualities,  I 
make,  with  as  great  reasons  but  with  greater  intensity,  to  women. 

Mothers,  bring  up  your  children  to  be  true,  just,  right-minded, 
transj)arently  honest,  virtuous.  If  they  be  sons,  see  that  it  is 
ingrained,  and  that  they  carry  these  things  as  weapons  both  of 
offence  and  defence ;  and  if  they  be  daughtei's,  insure  their  life  by 
these  premiums  of  fundamental  moral  qualities. 

3.  These  simple  moralities,  in  our  circumstances  in  life,  and  under 
the  temptations  which  are  brought  to  bear  upon  us,  will  necessitate  a 
determined  battle.  Some  men  conquer  easier  than  others.  I  believe 
in  hereditary  tendencies.  I  believe  that  an  honest  man  naturally  will 
have  honest  children.  They  may  be  perverted,  and  become  cor- 
rupted ;  but  moral  qualities  are  transmissible.  An  intelligent  parent 
will  have  children  that  wall  learn  more  easily  than  if  he  had  been 
unlearned  and  uncultivated  himself  These  children,  being  educated, 
transmit  the  tendency  to  take  on  education.  The  tendency  to  be  edu- 
cated is  transmissible.  If  you  are  virtuous,  your  children  will  have  that 
tendency  by  transmission.  And  if  they  carry  the  quality  forward,  and 
strengthen  it,  their  children  still  more  will  have  that  tendency.  So 
that  there  are  many  who  have  their  battles  fought  for  them  before 
they  come  into  life,  largely.  They  are  endowed  with  tendencies  w^hicli 
require  but  nourishing  to  become  fixed  habits.  But,  ordinarily  speak- 
ing, these  moral  qualities  may  be  said  to  be  in  part  wanting.  Men  have 
them  in  some  respects,  and  in  some  respects  they  lack  them.  In 
some  respects  they  are  sound,  and  in  others  they  are  weak.  "When  men 
come  into  life,  they  almost  invariably  have  to  fight  a  battle  for  the 
liberty  of  being  true,  honest,  faithful,  pure.  The  spirit  of  the  world 
around   about  them  tends  to  corrupt  them.     The  world  does   not 


MORALITY  THE  BASIS  OF  PIETY.  401 

attempt  to  govern  itself.  Public  sentiment  in  any  community  is 
never  parallel  with  nor  as  high  as  the  law  of  God.  It  is  always  far 
below  it.  A  man  that  does  not  live  any  higher  than  the  public  sen- 
timent requires,  lives  very  low.  For  jDublic  sentiment  is  the  average. 
It  is  that  point  at  which  the  lowest  members  of  society  and  the  high- 
est meet.  And  a  man  can  not  afford  to  have  but  an  average.  To  him 
belong  the  higher  developments. 

The  prevalent  unfaith  that  exists  among  men  as  to  the  safety 
and  efficiency  of  these  moral  qualities,  is  very  apt  to  demoralize  the 
young.  There  is  a  tendency,  on  the  other  hand,  to  their  opposites. 
Thus,  falsehood  the  mass  of  men  believe  to  be  better  than  the  truth 
itself.  They  think  that  selfishness,  with  an  edge  of  fidelity,  is  better 
than  fidelity  all  the  way  through  the  blade.  Men  believe  in  plated 
w^are.  "  Just  enough  silver  to  cover  the  base  metal,"  they  say, 
"answers  the  purposes  of  the  table.  There  is  less  risk  in  case  of  fire, 
it  is  less  likely  to  incite  attacks  by  burglars,  and  it  is  in  every  way 
just  as  satisfactory."  And  as  men  furnish  their  tables,  so  they  fur- 
nish their  characters.  They  say,  "What  is  the  use  of  going  to  the 
expense  of  pure  gold  ?  If  you  have  a  good,  solid  foundation,  and 
gild  it,  it  will  look  just  as  well,  and  last  just  as  long — at  any  rate,  a 
great  many  years,  and  as  long  as  men  ordinarily  want  to  have  it." 

Men  like  gilded  characters  and  silvered  characters;  but  they  do' 
not  like  gold  nor  silver  in  character.  And  there  is  a  prevalent  im- 
pression that  a  man  stands  in  his  own  way  if  he  is  too  rigoroiis.  You 
shall  hear  it  said,  "  What  does  a  man  want  to  be  such  a  fanatical  fooh 
for,  as  to  always  tell  the  truth  ?  What  is  the  use  of  a  man's  break- 
ing his  own  back  by  being  so  honest  as  that  ?  There  is  no  need  of 
men  being  honest  in  that  way.  That  man  is  a  romancer  who  does 
it."  Men  who  say  this  do  not  believe  in  these  moral  qualities.  But 
if  you  question  them,  and  say,  "  Do  not  you  believe  that  truth  and^ 
honesty  are  good?"  they  reply,  "Oh!  yes,  I  believe  in  them;  but  a 
man  must  not  have  too  much  of  them.  They  are  things  that  should 
be  used  with  discretion.  You  ought  to  understand  life  and  men ; 
and  if  you  are  going  to  deal  with  human  nature,  you  must  take  men 
just  as  they  are."  You  nmst  take  men  just  as  they  are  ;  but  it  does 
not  follow  that  you  must  be  like  them.  You  must  understand  men 
in  all  their  moods  and  tenses  and  variations ;  but,  after  all,  I  affirm 
that  truth  is  the  best  policy,  and  honesty  is  the  best  i^olicy,  and 
fidelity  is  the  best  policy,  and  purity  is  the  best  policy.  I  hold  that, 
if  you  have  faith  in  these  qualities,  they  will  keep  you  safe  ;  and 
there  never  will  be  a  time  of  trial  in  which  you  will  not  be  glad  that 
you  clung  to  them.  According  to  the  tenor  of  instruction  in  the 
chapter  which  I  read  in  the  opening  service,  if  you  cling  to  them, 


402  MORALITY  THE  BASIS  OF  PIETY. 

and  exalt  tliem,  and  honor  them,  they  will  abide  by  you,  and  exalt 
you,  and  honor  you. 

No  man  throughout  his  wliole  life  has  ever  been  profited  by  wrong- 
doing. Somewhere  or  other  God  meets  him.  You  may  overreach  your 
fellow-men  ;  you  may  gain  some  ends ;  but  happiness  requires  that  a 
man  shall  have  fulfilled  the  conditions  of  all  his  faculties,  and  not  sim- 
ply the  conditions  of  one  or  two  of  them.  Have  you  ever  watched  these 
men  that  gain  by  craft  ?  I  have.  Here  is  a  man  that  is  cold,  and 
selfish,  and  sharp,  and  keen,  and  grasping ;  and  he  gets  what  he  is 
after ;  but  he  is  all  dried  up,  so  that  when  he  gets  it,  it  can  not  do 
aay  thing  to  him.  Here  is  a  man  that  earns  a  paltry  thousand  dol- 
lars, and  he  is  really  happy.  Another  man  has  twenty  millions  of 
dollars,  and  he  is  a  wretch.  Why  ?  Because  there  is  not  a  fibre  left  in 
him  over  which  the  hand  of  j^leasure,  drawing,  can  evoke  sounds  of 
happiness.     He  has  unstrung  himself.     And  what  is  he  good  for  ? 

Go  with  me  to  Philadelphia,  and  I  will  take  you  into  tlie  Mint 
there ;  and  will  show  you  a  vast  wheeled  machine — a  steam-engine 
and  a  die.  There  are  the  bars  of  gold  and  silver  which  are  put  in  ; 
and  every  time  the  stamp  goes  down,  it  cuts  out  a  dollar,  or  five  dol- 
lars, or  ten  dollars.  And  that  machine  is  just  like  many  men.  I  can 
point  you  to  a  dozen  men  in  New-York  that  are  nothing  but  great 
ii'on  machines.  That  is,  their  whole  life  is  nothing  more  to  them 
than  a  perpetual  efibrt  to  get  rich,  or  riclier.  Take  out  from  them 
the  simple  power  of  coining  money,  the  simple  stamping  powei",  and 
all  the  rest  is  of  no  more  value  than  iron  machinery. 

Suppose  you  should  go  and  sit  down  at  the  Mint  and  talk  with 
this  machine — this  die  ?  You  say,  "  Good  morning,  sir.  How  is  your 
health  ?  "What  is  your  impression  of  the  state  of  2>olitics  ?  What  is 
the  condition  of  your  conscience  "  ?  It  goes  on  punching,  punching. 
All  it  knows  is  how  to  punch,  punch,  punch,  all  its  life  long !  And 
there  are  men  in  New-York  that  you  may  talk  to  about  every  thing 
in  the  universe,  but  that  know  nothing  except  to  punch  out  money, 
money,  money  !  And  when  they  have  made  it,  it  is  no  more  to  them 
than  if  it  were  lying  in  the  bed  of  the  stream,  or  in  the  veins  of 
the  mountain.     Would  you  become  rich  at  such  an  exi:)ense  as  that  ? 

I  am  far  from  deriding  wealth,  or  the  pursuit  of  it.  I  perceive 
that  it  is  the  symbol  of  universal  activity,  and  the  key  to  incalcula- 
ble enjoyment,  if  rightly  employed ;  but  a  man  who  believes  that 
he  can  sacrifice  every  manly  quality  to  earn  wealth,  and  that  then  he 
can  take  that  wealth  and  make  himself  happy,  is  bejuggled  by  the 
devil,  and  overreached  by  him.  You  can  not  do  it.  And  yet,  in  the 
community  how  widely  is  it  the  impression  of  men — young  men — 
that  if  you  only  get  money,  you  can  get  any  thing !  No,  you  can 
not.     I  tell  you  that  money,  with  honor,  with  truth,  with  fidelity, 


MORALITY  THE  BASIS  OF  PIETY.  403 

with  purity,  with  good  character,  and  with  good  reputation  follow- 
ing it,  will  be  of  incalculable  benefit  to  you ;  but  the  money  that  you 
have  got  by  selling  your  character  will  be  a  curse  to  you  just  as  long  as 
you  live.  Living,  men  will  despise  you ;  and  dying,  curses  will  make 
your  monument.  And  as  these  moral  qualities  are  permanently  good, 
so  they  are  good  at  every  intermediate  point  between  the  present 
and  the  future. 

I  wish  very  much  to  reach  the  fallacy  which  lurks  in  the  minds  of 
men.  Though  you  acknowledge  that  these  things  are  true,  and  a  great 
many  of  you  say,  "  In  general  that  view  is  correct ; "  yet,  to-morrow, 
there  will  be  a  special  occasion  on  which  you  will  say,  "  Well,  truth 
is  right ;  but  then  this  is  a  particular  case."  There  are  many  of  you 
that  will  say,  "  I  never  heard  the  truth  about  honesty  better  pro- 
pounded in  my  life ;  I  go  every  word  of  it ;  but  in  such  a  case  as 
this,  a  man  must  not  strain  himself."  Men  think  about  honesty,  and 
every  body  loves  honesty,  just  as  every  body  loves  good  money ;  and 
every  body  hates  dishonesty,  just  as  every  body  hates  counterfeit 
money. 

When  a  conductor  takes  a  counterfeit  bill,  he  first  curses  the  man  that 
issued  it,  and  then  the  man  that  put  it  on  him ;  and  then  he  says,  "  I'm 
not  going  to  let  it  die  on  my  hands  !"  And  as  it  is  with  spui'ious  money 
and  good  money,  so  it  is  with  bad  qualities  and  sound  qualities.  Every 
body  likes  good  morals;  and  yet,  in  particular  cases,  every  body  shoves 
ofi"  bad  morals  if  it  serves  his  purpose.  But  I  hold  that  a  man  who  puts 
olf  a  bad  bill,  knowing  or  suspecting  that  it  is  bad,  is  an  utterer  of 
counterfeit  money,  or  a  comjjanion  of  counterfeiters.  Condition  and 
circumstances  will  probably  restrain  him  from  being  a  counterfeiter  ; 
but  there  is  no  moral  principle  in  him  that  would  prevent  his  being 
one.  A  man  that  will  tell  a  lie  under  temptation,  requires  but  temp- 
tation, impunity,  and  opportunity  to  be  an  absolute  liar.  A  man  that 
will  break  the  least  commandment  will  break  the  whole — is  capable 
of  breaking  the  whole. 

There  is  to  be  one  ground,  and  only  one ;  and  that  is  truth,  hon- 
esty, fidelity,  always,  without  exception.  These  are  always  right, 
safe,  and  the  best  policy.  There  is  no  other  ground  that  you  can 
take  and  be  safe.  And  if  you  take  that  ground,  you  must  fight  for 
it.  You  must  fight  the  tendencies  of  your  own  nature.  You  must 
fight  the  customs  of  society.  You  must  contend,  every  man  in  his 
own  profession.  No  man  can  attempt  to  carry  out  such  a  character, 
and  be  rigidly  honest  and  upright,  and  not  become  necessarily  a  re- 
former. But  it  is  worth  all  the  conflict  that  you  wage,  it  is  worth  all 
the  strength  that  you  put  forth,  it  is  worth  all  the  suflfering  that  you 
are  called  to  endure  for  it.    It  is  that  which  will  redeem  your  life,  and 


404:  MORALITY  THE  BASIS  OF  PIETY. 

make  you  worthy  to  have  been  created — worthy  to  be  called  a  son  of 
God. 

Hence,  let  me  say  to  every  one  of  you,  in  closing,  that  in  this  great 
battle  into  which  you  are  drafted,  from  which  you  can  not  escape, 
and  which  you  must  fight  out,  there  is  nothing  like  the  fear  of  God ;  there 
is  nothing  like,  "  Thou,  God,  seest  me ;"  there  is  nothing  like,  "  Search 
me,  O  God,  and  try  me,  and  see  if  there  be  any  evil  way  in  me." 

Great  are  the  forces  that  are  ready  to  pull  you  down ;  but  if  you 
did  but  know  it,  greater  are  they  that  are  for  you  than  are  they  that  are 
against  you.  God  made  the  course  of  nature  so  that  it  is  more  profi- 
table to  be  right  than  to  be  wrong.  Nature  is  on  your  side.  God 
made  the  absolute  nature  of  human  society  such  that  righteousness 
profits  in  the  long  run  better  than  Avickedness.  Men  do  not  believe 
it ;  but  it  is  so.  God  administers  nature  and  providence,  God  admin- 
isters his  own  moral  government,  so  that  they  who  obey  him  shall 
prosper  both  in  the  life  that  now  is,  and  in  that  which  is  to  come. 

Do  not  attempt  then,  even  in  these  simple  moral  elements,  to  go 
alone.  Nay,  more  than  that,  let  these  moral  elements — truth, 'hon- 
esty, fidelity,  and  purity — be  but  foundations.  Go  on.  Give  your 
heart  to  God.  Love  him.  Then,  living  in  the  daily  commerce  of 
thought  with  God,  and  in  the  commerce  of  your  fellow-men,  anima- 
ted by  the  spu-it  of  love,  ere  long  habits  will  be  formed ;  and  those 
habits  will  become  armors  of  ofiense  and  defense;  and  at  last,  some 
years  having  passed,  it  will  be  more  easy  for  you  to  be  true,  and  just, 
and  honest,  and  upright,  and  faithful  than  not  to  be.  Their  opposites 
will  become  discords — moral  discords.  And  when  once  you  are  estab- 
lished, and  every  bone  is  hardened,  and  every  muscle  is  knit  firmly,  in 
this  better  way,  then,  whether  you  are  rich  or  poor,  life  will  have 
been  saved.  You  can  not  lose  happiness — you  that  are  at  peace  with 
God,  and  at  peace  with  yom-  fellow-men ;  as  you  can  not  have  happi- 
ness if  you  are  in  opposition  to  God  and  your  fellow-men. 

I  beseech  of  you,  therefore,  hear  the  word  of  God  to  you,  which  is 
just  as  true  to-day  as  it  was  two  thousand  years  ago,  when  it  sound- 
ed out  to  the  young  men  of  Jerusalem;  just  as  true  as  it  has  been 
proved  to  be  in  every  great  city,  and  every  great  empire — a  truth 
which  age  after  age  sets  its  seal  to ;  namely,  "  Godliness  is  profitable 
unto  all  things,  having  the  promise  of  this  life,  as  well  as  of  that 
which  is  to  come."  And  listen  also  to  that  other  and  greater  utter- 
ance— "  Seek  ye  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  his  righteousness ;  and 
aU  these  things  shall  be  added  imto  you." 


MORALITY  THE  BASIS  OF  PIETY  405 


PRAYER     BEFORE    THE    SERMON. 

Wb  adore  thy  name  and  bless  thee,  O  Lord  1  most  high  and  holy.  We  draw  near  to  thee  to 
give  thanks.  We  draw  near  to  thee  to  render  thee  tokens  of  love.  We  draw  near  to  confess  onr 
sin  and  unworthiness,  and  to  lay  hold,  by  faith,  upon  all  thy  promises,  and  upon  thy  help.  We 
love  to  be  loved.  And  those  that  hold  us  in  dear  esteem— how  precious  to  us  is  their  coming,  an 
their  words,  if  thoy  be  words  of  wisdom  and  of  truth  !  And  art  not  thou  glad  when  we  love  thee, 
and  behold  that  in  thee  which  is  worthy  of  love  ?  When  we  are  like  little  children,  and  our 
hearts  go  out  unto  thee  in  trust  and  in  joy,  is  not  this  worship?  And  is  not  this  that  which 
pleases  thee  ?  May  our  hearts  make  thee  glad  to-night,  O  thou  abounding  Saviour  1  whose  word 
and  work  and  love  never  cease.  Grant  that  we  may  see  more  and  more,  as  the  days  and  years 
go  on,  that  which  makes  thee  Chief  among  ten  thousand,  and  the  One  altogether  lovely.  Perfect 
truth  thou  art.  Honor  and  integrity  and  righteousness  are  with  thee  for  evermore.  Thou  art 
full  of  gentleness ;  and  mercy  makes  its  home  in  thy  heart.  Thou  dost  love  to  give  rather  than  to 
receive.  It  is  thy  nature  to  joy  for  evermore  in  thoughts,  and  in  the  power  of  thy  right  hand  to 
give  forth  the  reasons  of  gladness  and  of  joy  to  all  thy  creatures.  Thou  art  full  of  graciousness,  and 
eminent  above  all  in  power  and  in  wisdom.  Yet  more  art  thou  in  graciousness  and  goodness  than 
thou  art  in  wisdom.  And  love  sits  crowned  upon  thy  brow.  And  all  thy  joys  are  joys  supernal 
and  noble.  OhI  that  we  could  catch  thy  spirit.  Oh  1  that  it  were  given  to  us  to  be  like  thee,  even  in 
lower  measures,  and  according  to  the  proportion  of  our  nature.  Oh !  that  we  might  have  thy  purity, 
thy  truth,  thy  justice,  thy  love,  and  mercy,  and  graciousness,  and  magnanimity,  and  that  we  might 
be  like  unto  our  God.  Give  forth  to  every  one  of  us  that  spirit — that  gracious,  enlightening,  and 
sanctifying  spirit — by  which,  cleansed  from  all  the  defilements  of  the  flesh,  and  all  the  dominations 
of  the  world,  we  may  rise  into  sympathy  with  thee,  and  into  thy  likeness,  so  that  at  last  it  shall  be 
easy  for  our  thoughts  to  go  forth  from  ourselves,  and  into  thee ;  and  for  thy  thoughts  to  issue  forth, 
and  find  a  resting-place  in  us.  May  we  be  united  to  God,  so  that  he  shall  dweU  in  us,  and  we 
ehall  abide  in  him. 

Vouchsafe  thy  blessing,  to-night,  to  every  one  in  thy  presence  that  seeks  thee ;  and  if  there 
be  any  in  error,  let  not  the  error  be  their  destruction.  If  there  are  any  in  partial  truth,  let  the 
truth  that  they  have,  though  it  be  in  fragments,  be  mighty  through  thy  blessing.  Grant ,  we  pray 
thee,  that  those  who  seek  thee  ignorantly  and  afar  off,  may  be  very  graciously  guided.  Are  there 
not  some  souls  here  that  are  like  a  stranger  in  a  great  city  seeking  a  friend,  who,  ignorant  of  where 
that  friend  is,  inquires  of  one  and  another  ?  Oh  !  are  there  not  those  who  inquire  of  the  watchman 
to-night,  "  Where  is  my  Beloved  ?"  Grant  that  they  may  find  the  way,  and  find  Him  of  whom 
the  prophets  spake,  and  whom  their  souls  need.  Are  there  not  those  in  thy  presence  that  are 
wavering ;  that  are  tempted ;  that  find  themselves  shaken  as  the  reeds  by  the  wind  ?  O  Lord  1 
thou  canst  give  them  strength,  and  cause  them. to  stand,  who  have  no  strength  in  themselves. 
And  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  hold  them  up,  that  they  be  not  cast  down  by  the  adversary 
of  their  souls.  May  they  stop  their  ears  to  temptation.  May  they  look  away  to  the  city,  and  cry. 
Life  1  life  1  eternal  life  1  and  speed  on,  leaving  temptations  behind  them.  May  none  count  them- 
selves xmworthy  of  eternal  life.  May  none  buy  the  beggarly  elements  of  this  world,  that  promise 
more  than  they  perform,  that  delude  and  cheat,  at  the  cost  of  their  souls. 

We  beseech  Of  thee,  O  Lord  God !  that  thou  wilt  awaken  those  that  are  indifi"erent.  Change 
curiosity  to  anxiety.  If  there  be  those  that  have  drifted  hither,  they  know  not  why,  coming  for 
the  sight  of  their  eyes  and  for  the  hearing  of  their  ears,  O  Lord  I  we  beseech  of  thee  that  thou 
wilt  grant  unto  them  the  celestial  vision,  and  the  sounds  of  the  eternal  world,  such  that  they  can 
not  forget  them,  and  impressions  which  they  can  not  shake  ofi".  Oh  I  bring  in  some  that  are  wan- 
dering far  from  the  way  of  their  youth,  and  from  better  thoughts.  Bring  back  some  that  have 
gone  very  far  away,  and  have  almost  lost  the  sight  of  the  celestial  city.  Bring  back  to-night  many 
wanderers ;  and  may  the  truth  be  made  an  instrument  in  thine  hand  of  blessing  to  many  that 
shall  listen  to  it ;  and  may  none  of  us  go  hence  without  some  argument  of  reward ;  witliout  some 
token  of  favor.  May  some  prayers  be  answered ;  some  joys  anticipated ;  some  heart-gladness  go 
up  as  a  perfume  of  flowers  before  thee.  May  there  be  awakenings.  May  there  be  inspirations. 
May  there  be  convertings.  May  there  be  illumination.  Grant  that  there  may  be,  in  all  the 
multitudeof  thy  mercies,  wide-distributed,  the  abundant  display  of  the  goodness  and  gracious- 
ness of  God  in  our  midst.  And  so  carry  us,  from  Sabbath  to  Sabbath,  until  at  last  we  reach  that 
rest  which  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God.  And  we  will  praise  thee,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit, 
evermore.    Ajnen. 


406  MORALITY  THE  BASIS  OF   PIETY. 


PRAYER    AFTER   THE    SERMON. 

Grant,  onr  Heavenly  Father,  that  the  word  of  truth  may  sink  into  good  and  honest  hearts. 
As  seed,  may  it  bring  forth  abundantly.  Save  every  one  that  is  foundering  in  life,  from  the  de- 
ceits and  temptations  and  biasing  influences  which  attend  him.  Grant  that  we  may  all  rise  into  a 
higher  conception  of  manhood  ;  into  a  nobler  ambition  of  character.  May  we  defend  ourselves 
against  the  temptations  and  the  deceits  that  so  continually  enfeeble  our  consciences.  May  we 
love  truth,  may  we  love  honesty,  for  the  sake  of  God,  for  the  sake  of  man,  and  for  our  ovni 
sake.  May  we  so  live  in  the  fear  of  God  that  we  shall  not  need  human  watching :  and  living  in  the 
fear  of  God,  may  we  at  last  come  to  the  necessity  for  truth,  and  purity,  and  duty  for  our  own 
Bakes,  becoming  a  law  unto  ourselves.  And  so  living  and  doing  good  ariijong  men,  at  last,  when 
we  shall  die,  may  we  find  ourselves,  with  glorious  translation,  lifted  into  the  number  of  the 
saints  made  perfect  in  heaven.    And  to  thy  name  shall  be  the  praise,  for  evermore.  Amen. 


XXVI. 
THE    TRINITY. 


I 


THE  TRINITY. 

SUNDAY  MORNING,  FEBRUARY  28,  1869. 


INVOCATION. 


Vouchsafe  to  us,  from  tliine  liigli  and  holy  place,  O  Lord  our  God,  those 
quickening  influences  by  which  we  shall  know  thee,  and  rise  up  into  communion 
with  thee.  Deliver  us  from  the  thrall  of  our  senses.  Deliver  us  from  the  course 
and  current  of  habits  that  sweep  us  away  from  God  and  from  heaven.  Drive  away 
the  doubts  that  cloud  our  minds,  that  the  light  may  shine  clearly  and  strongly 
upon  us.  Quicken  our  spiritual  apprehension,  and  the  joy  of  love,  and  its  himible 
boldness,  by  which  we  may  draw  near  to  the  very  Holy  of  holies,  and  partake  of  all 
that  thou  hast  there,  being  heirs  with  Christ,  to  the  inheritance  of  eternal  glory. 
These  mercies  we  ask  iu  the  name  of  the  Beloved.    Amen. 


"  And  grieve  not  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  whereby  ye  are  sealed  unto  the  day  of 
redemption." — Eph.  iv.  30. 

All  religions  which  have  flourished  in  the  world  have  had  this 
in  common — a  belief  in  the  existence  of  superior  beings,  or  gods,  who 
were  active  in  the  goveimraent  of  the  world.  A  divine  government, 
as  distinguished  from  polytheism,  or  the  worship  of  idolatrous  gods, 
is  sublimely  disclosed  and  illustrated  in  the  Jewish  Scriptures  of  the 
Old  Testament.  In  the  Christian  Scriptures  of  the  New  Testament, 
we  find  this  one  God  represented  in  a  threefold  nature;  and  the 
terms  "  Holy  Spirit,"  "  Jejus  Christ,"  and  "  Father  "  are  employed 
interchangeably.  Especially  is  it  true  of  Jesus  Christ,  that  every  act 
of  sovereignty  is  ascribed  to  him.  Every  attribute  of  divinity  is  at 
one  time  or  another  implied  or  asserted.  If  one  analyzes  the  feelings 
and  experiences  recorded  by  the  apostles  toward  tlie  Fathei*,  and 
then  their  experiences  and  expressions  toward  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
it  will  be  found  impossible  to  discriminate  between  the  one  set  of 
experiences  and  the  other.  If  the  emotions  expressed  toward  God 
are  worship,  then  the  emotions  expressed  toward  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  are  not  one  whit  lower  in  the  scale  of  worship. 

But  when  the  Master  was  about  to  leave  the  world,  he  promised 
a  Comforter,  or  a  divine  Spirit,  called  by  the  Christian  church  "  The 

LitssON :  PhU.  ii.    Htmns  (Plymoutli  Collection) :  Nos.  296,  381,  823. 


408  TEE   TRINITT. 

Spirit,"  "  The  Holy  Ghost " — using  that  term,  in  the  oarly  English 
sense,  as  synonymous  with  Spirit. 

This  manifestation  of  God  was  promised ;  and  the  disciples  were 
commanded  to  wait  for  it  after  the  Saviour  went  up  from  among  them. 
And  it  is  recorded,  that  at  a  memorable  date  there  descended  upon 
them  a  divine  influence  of  a  most  wonderful  and  singular  character, 
not  before  known ;  and  we  have  evidence  that  after  that  period  these 
men  were  diflerent  men.  They  had  a  courage,  they  had  a  clearness 
of  aim,  they  had  a  trust  in  the  ascended  Saviour,  they  had  a  power 
to  reach  men,  that  they  had  not  before  the  Pentecostal  day.  That 
divine  Spirit  fell  upon  the  disciples  that  were  gathered  by  the  apostles 
as  they  went  from  place  to  place  establishing  churches  ;  and  thereafter 
in  all  their  letters  the  term  "  Spirit,"  "  Holy  Spirit,"  "  Holy  Ghost," 
was  used  by  the  apostles,  and  by  the  early  Christians,  to  signify  a 
divine  Being. 

So  that  it  comes,  as  a  mere  matter  of  fact,  to  pass,  upon  the  pages 
of  the  New  Testament,  that  the  one  God  of  whom  the  Old  Testament 
spake,  is  spoken  of  still  as  one,  existing  as  "  the  Father,"  "  the  Son," 
"  the  Spirit." 

Now,  it  is  not  required  of  us  to  form  a  clear  idea  of  the  mode  of 
divine  existence.  It  is  everywhere  said  or  imj^lied  that  this  transcends 
our  capacity.  This  might  have  been  anticipated  ;  for  men  can  not 
understand  human  nature.  The  least  of  all  their  knowledge  is  in  this 
direction.  And  less  and  less  do  we  understand  human  nature  as  we 
push  inquiry  back  to  the  source  and  ground  of  being.  How  much  less, 
then,  is  it  to  be  expected  that  we  should  understand  a  Being  who 
opens  his  attributes  in  a  realm  above  all  search  and  experience,  and 
whose  existence  is  vaster  and  more  complicated  than  ours !  How 
much  less  is  it  to  be  expected  that  we  should  understand  the  soul  and 
the  nature  of  God  himself ! 

But  the  simple  reader  of  the  New  Testament  will  find,  first,  that 
the  unit  of  the  Old  Testament  has  been  superseded  by  a  divine 
Being,  represented  by  the  terms  "  Father,"  "  Son,"  and  "  Holy  Spirit," 
— a  one  God,  with  three  manifestations  answering  to  our  idea  of  per- 
sonalities. I  do  not  say  that  he  will  understand  this.  I  simply  say, 
•  that  this  is  the  usage  of  the  New  Testament  Scriptures — to  speak  of 
God  still  as  one  God,  and,  nevertheless,  to  speak  of  that  one  God  as 
"  Father,"  "  Son,"  and  "  Holy  Spirit." 

There  have  been  many  theories  that  have  been  made  to  account 
for  it.  Let  them  rejoice  in  their  theories  who  will ;  I  have  none.  I 
do  not  wish  any;  nor  do  I  much  respect  any  that  have  been  formed. 

If  you  take  either  mode  of  speaking  of  God,  by  itself;  if  you  take 
either  extreme  of  these  representations — God  as  absolutely  one,  or 
God  as  absolutely  three — you  will  find  yourself  brcught  into  collision 


THE   TRINITY  409 

with  the  other.  Thus,  for  example,  they  who  say  that  Gocl  is  one,  and 
the  only  One,  can  not,  it  seems  to  me,  read  through  the  New  Testa- 
ment and  say  that  there  are  no  difficult  cases ;  that  they  do  not  find 
themselves  involved  in  difficulties  with  passages  which  seem  to  repre- 
sent tri-personality.  This  theory  does  not  satisfactorily  meet  all  the 
separate  texts  or  passages  of  the  New  Testament.  It  does  not  cover 
the  whole  representation  of  divinity  in  the  New  Testament.  If,  then, 
you  take  the  theory  of  absolute  unity,  you  will  be  obliged  to  leave 
out,  or  to  do  violence,  in  order  to  explain  large  classes  of  passages 
which  represent  something  else  besides  unity  in  the  divine  nature. 

Or,  if  you  rid  yourself  of  this,  you  go  to  the  other  extreme,  and 
take  the  theory  of  tri-theism,  and  preach  absolutely  that  there  are 
three  Gods—"  the  Father,"  "  the  Son,"  and  "  the  Holy  Spirit."  You 
will  satisfy  in  this  way  one  class  of  cases  that  appear  in  the  New  Tes- 
tament ;  but  you  will  utterly  fail  to  meet  the  declarations  of  divine 
oneness  that  are  found  in  the  New  Testament  just  as  well. 

The  only  other  course  which  lies  open  to  us,  is  to  accept  both  of 
these  representations,  and  not  attempt  to  reconcile  them ;  to  say  that 
according  to  New  Testament  usage  God  is  spoken  of,  sometimes  as 
one  God,  and  at  other  and  divers  times  as  "  Father,"  "  Son,"  and 
"Holy  Spirit."  This,  it  seems  to  me,  is  the  simplest  method, 
as  well  as  the  most  honest — to  say  that  God  is  one,  and  in  some 
resj^ects  three.  Men  say  that  they  can  not  understand  how  God 
can  be  three  if  he  is  one.  My  difficulty  is  not  there.  I  can  under- 
stand threeness  a  great  deal  better  than  I  can  oneness.  But  it  does 
not  depend  upon  my  understanding  and  exposition  of  it,  nor  yours. 
It  is  simply  a  question.  Will  you  take  the  sum  of  all  the  represen- 
tations of  the  inspired  text  ?  or  will  you  demand  that  those  I'epre- 
sentations  shall  first  be  ground  and  kneaded  into  a  theory,  and  then 
take  that  theory  or  that  philosophy  ?  If  a  man  says,  "  Do  you  under- 
stand the  unity  of  God  ?"  I  do  not.  There  is  very  little  of  God 
that  I  do  understand.  If  he  says,  "Do  you  understand  the  tri-per- 
sonality of  God  ?"  No — only  in  a  presumptive  sense.  There  is  very 
little  of  the  divine  nature  that  I  do  understand.  "  How  then,  if  you 
do  not  understand  unity,  can  you  hold  that  he  is  both  one  and  three  ?" 
I  say,  Not  three  in  the  same  respects  in  which  he  is  one.  But  I  hold 
that  there  are  possibilities  of  divine  existence,  of  which  I  shall  speak 
in  a  moment,  that  justify  me  in  believing  that  God  is  revealed  in  the 
New  Testament  as  one  God  in  three  persons.  Not  that  the  method  is 
soluble  ;  not  that  I  j^erceive  the  method  of  it :  I  perceive  the  text  of 
it.  And  I  find  that  there  are  fewer  difficulties  in  taking  the  face  of 
Scripture  than  there  are  in  taking  the  philosophical  deductions  which 
men  make  from  the  face  of  Scripture.  We  understand  neither  unity 
nor  trinity  in  any  enlarged  sense.     We  find  in  the  New  Testament 


410  THE   TRINITY. 

representations  of  both  of  tliem.  They  are  not  in  conflict  neces- 
sarily, since  comjilexity  may  consist  with  nnity.  "We  are  not  to  sup- 
pose that  it  is  presumptively  true  that  God  is  one  and  three  simply 
because  there  is  no  analogue  among  men  of  this  kind.  I  shall  show 
that  there  is  an  analogue  in  nature — that  is,  in  the  whole  sum  of 
being  or  existence.  But  because  our  acquaintance  with  vital,  intelli- 
gent, sentient  life  is  limited  ;  because  the  class  of  beings  with  which 
we  are  familiar  exist  in  unity — unity  and  diversity  so  far  as  faculty 
is  concerned,  but  unity  without  diverse  personality — we  are  not  to  sup- 
pose that  this  exhausts  all  possible  modes  of  being.  And  certainly 
we  are  not  to  suppose  that  man  is  the  model  of  existence,  so  that 
God  may  be  supj)osed  to  exist  in  the  same  philosophical  method  that 
man  does.  There  is  no  reason  in  philosophy  why  we  should  take  that 
ground ;  but  there  are  reasons  and  presumptions  why  we  should  not 
adventure  to  declare,  that  we  have  a  right  to  reason  upon  the  mode 
of  divine  existence,  and  say,  "  It  is  possible  only  as  unity ;"  or,  "  It 
is  possible  only  as  trinity."  No  one  is  to  suppose  that  human  life 
exhausts  all  the  possible  modes  of  existence. 

We  are  to  remember  that  the  analogues  of  creation  point  other- 
wise— namely,  to  the  existence  of  a  vast  scale  of  unity  in  complexity. 
The  animal  kingdom  springs  originally  from  a  unit — a  cell.  The 
lowest  form  of  animated  existence  is  a  cell.  The  animal  kingdom 
rises  by  differentiation,  or  by  diverse  parts,  growing  toward  complex- 
ity. The  lowest  form  of  animated  being  is  unity;  and  every  step 
upward  is  multiplication  in  unity  of  parts,  and  difference  of  func- 
tions, until  we  reach  the  highest  form  of  life,  which  is  man.  There 
complexity  has  assumed  a  degree  quite  unparalleled  in  any  thing  be- 
neath man,  transcending  the  understanding  of  the  very  being  him- 
self of  whom  it  is  predicated. 

If,  then,  we  go  right  on  to  beings  still  higher  than  man,  the  pre- 
sumption of  analogy  is,  not  only  that  there  will  be  modes  of  being 
differing  from  ours,  but  that  this  difference  will  be  in  the  direction  of 
unity  with  infinite  complexity  ;  and  that  infinite  complexity  may  be 
easily  imagined  to  be,  not  merely  an  agglomeration  of  faculties  in 
one  being,  but  a  range  higher  than  this,  so  that  beings  shall  be  agglo- 
merated in  a  being,  and  that  there  shall  be  personality  grouj^ed  into 
unity,  just  as  in  our  own  life  complexity  of  faculties  are  grouped 
into  unity.  At  any  rate,  those  who  accept  the  face  of  the  New 
Testament  scripture,  and  who  believe  in  one  God  existing  in  three 
persons — tne  Father,  the  Son,  and  the  Holy  Spirit — are  not  to  be 
charged  with  absurdity  or  unreasonableness. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  take  the  broadest  ground  of  natural  science, 
and  say  that  every  single  tendency  and  course  of  reasoning  indicates 
that  being  augments,  and  that  modes  of  bemg  become  larger,  and 


THE   TRINITY.  411 

more  and  moi*e  diverse,  and  tliat  complexity  rises  from  the  lowest 
form  of  the  animated  kingdom,  growing  greater,  and  greater  yet,  in 
unity.  So  it  is  eminently,  philosophically,  and  presumptively  true,  to 
say  that  superior  beings  will  manifest  complexity  even  more  than 
we  have  known  it  in  the  inferior  scale.  When  the  New  Testament, 
therefore,  comes  in,  without  philosophy,  and  without  explanation,  and 
speaks  of  the  higher  existence  of  God  as  one,  and  at  the  same  time 
as  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  or  three  persons  brooding  together, 
as  it  were,  though  we  do  not  understand  it,  every  one  may  say,  "  This 
is  the  shadow  of  that  which  we  might  have  suspected,  even  in  the 
order  of  nature  itself" 

How  shall  we  accept  it  ?  As  a  thing  perfectly  analyzed  and  un- 
derstood ?  No.  I  accept  it  merely  as  a  fact  stated.  I  do  not  require 
any  one  to  tell  me  how  it  is.  I  siraj)ly  ask  that  every  one  shall  use 
the  same  language  respecting  God  that  the  New  Testament  does, 
calling  God  one,  and  yet  Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Spirit,  united  to- 
gether in  a  region  beyond  the  reach  of  our  investigation — so  united 
that  trinity  does  not  violate  unity,  nor  unity  make  it  inconsistent  that 
there  should  be  trinity. 

It  is  out  of  this  tri-personality,  that  the  doctrine  springs  of  the 
existence  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  of  its  activity  and  operation  upon 
the  human  mind,  as  one  of  the  divine  persons — or  whatever  you  may 
choose  to  call  it.  I  am  not  wedded  to  the  term  person^  or  to  the 
term  heing^  or  to  the  term  indimduality ^  or  to  any  other  phrase.  I 
merely  wish  to  keep  the  Scriptural  idea — namely,  that  unity  has  three 
grand  developments  into  that  which  corresponds  somewhat  in  im- 
portance to  our  ideas  of  separate  personalities.  One  of  these  per- 
sonalities is  the  Holy  Spirit,  or  the  Holy  Ghost — these  terms  being 
identical  in  the  old  English  usage. 

It  is  taught,  or  implied,  further,  that  there  is  a  special  and  imme- 
diate office  of  the  divine  Spirit  in  connection  with  the  human  spirit. 
The  church  has  taught  that  the  Holy  Ghost  enlightens  the  under- 
standing, strives  with  the  feelings,  works  upon  the  whole  soul. 
As  it  were,  it  administers  in  the  realm  of  the  human  soul. 

Far  be  it  from  me  to  undertake  to  say  that  I  understand,  or  that 
the  church  understands,  or  any  one,  what  is  the  sphere,  or  what  are 
all  the  functions  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  I  only  say  that  as  far  as  it  is 
made  known  to  us,  we  are  taught  that  the  Holy  Spirit  does  enlighten, 
stimulate,  guide,  and  direct  the  spirit  of  man. 

The  universality  of  this  divine  influence  on  the  soul  of  man  is 
taught  directly,  or  by  necessary  implication,  throughout  the  New 
Testament.  The  divine  influence  is  that  universal  stimulant  which 
excites,  awakens,  and  educates  the  human  soul  in  its  social  and  higher 
moral  elements — so  much  so,  that  all  growths  in  the  vegetable  king- 


412  THE  TRINITY. 

dom  would  no  sooner  perish  if  the  sua  were  exploded,  than  would  the 
human  soul  collapse  and  perish  if  the  divine  inspiration  did  not  per- 
vade society.  What  light  and  heat  are  to  growth  in  the  vegetable 
kingdom  below  us,  that  I  hold  the  divine  effluence  to  be  to  the  exist- 
ence of  tlie  human  soul  in  its  present  conditions.  There  is  a  divine 
element  which  is  the  pabulum  of  existence.  It  is  not  merely  that 
which  is  necessary  to  work  the  soul  up  to  something  higher.  The 
very  existence  of  the  soul  in  its  moral  relations  I  hold  to  be  depen- 
dent upon  that  substratum  of  divine  influence,  divine  power ;  and  I 
hold  that  that  divine  influence  is  as  widespread  as  human  existence. 
It  is  universal. 

This  divine  inspiration  works,  first,  we  may  suppose,  through  the 
truth.  At  any  rate,  greater  emphasis  has  been  given  to  this  than  to 
any  other  representation.  The  word,  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  the 
truth  as  it  was  preached  in  its  primitive  power  by  the  apostles,  has 
been  found,  in  the  experience  of  the  world,  to  be  more  blessed  to  the 
conversion  of  men,  to  the  augmentation  of  their  spiritual  forces,  to 
their  education  and  thorough  development,  than  any  other  thing.  In 
other  words,  the  divine  Spirit  brings  home  the  truths  of  divine  exist- 
ence, and  of  man's  relation  to  God,  and  blesses  them  through  the 
medium  of  the  understanding  and  of  the  conscience  more  than  we  are 
conscious  of  its  blessing  any  other  form  of  truth.  It  works  through 
revealed  truth  not  exclusively,  but  preeminently,  and  with  more  power 
and  dignity,  apparently,  than  through  any  thing  else. 

But  the  Spirit  of  God  works  through  the  instruments  and  agencies 
of  human  society  also.  While  the  truth  of  Christ  Jesus,  the  truth  of 
divine  government,  the  power  of  love,  the  power  of  justice,  the  hope 
of  eternity,  and  the  fear  of  eternal  penalty — while  these  things  are  pre- 
eminently the  instrument  by  which  the  Spirit  works  upon  the  hearts 
of  men,  not  these  alone  are  employed.  All  the  agencies  of  human 
society  whose  tendency  is  to  educate  men — the  higher  part,  at  any 
rate,  of  men ;  all  men's  social  relationships,  which  are  normal  and 
virtuous ;  all  men's  civil  relationships,  in  which  there  is  power  to  re- 
strain evil,  or  to  incite  toward  good ;  all  loves  and  friendships  ;  the 
whole  round  of  providences  which  come  to  men — these  elements 
are  also  channels,  instruments,  by  which  the  third  person  of  the  Trin- 
ity — the  divine  Spirit — works  upon  the  human  understanding  and 
the  human  heart. 

So  it  frequently  comes  to  pass  that  although  men  may  not  have 
had  the  best  preaching ;  namely,  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Christ  Jesus, 
there  is  a  saving  gospel — what  may  be  called  the  reflected  light  of 
Christ.  That  part  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  which  has  been  cut  up 
into  law,  and  which  is  doing  its  work  in  the  institutions  of  men,  and 
in  their  every-day  life  and  conduct,  is  frequently  blessed  of  the  Spirit 


TEE  TEINITY.  413 

of  God.  So  that  there  is,  as  we  may  say,  the  direct  shining  of  the 
truth  revealed  in  the  New  Testament,  and  the  secondary  light  of  the 
truth  as  it  is  reflected  from  its  partial  embodiment  in  human  laws, 
usages,  and  societies. 

We  are  taught,  also,  by  experience  and  observation,  that  the  divine 
Spirit  employs  the  whole  round  of  nature.  Since  nature  has  been 
found  to  have  powerful  effects  upon  the  human  soul ;  since  it  works 
upon  the  imagination ;  since  it  works  upon  the  affections  to  a  consid- 
erable degree ;  since  character  is  largely  determined  by  the  physical 
and  social  influences  under  Avhich  men  are  born  and  reared,  it  is  fair  to 
assume  that  by  the  Holy  Spirit  these  instruments  also  are  ai^propriately 
employed.  And  although,  as  contrasted  with  the  Gospel  of  Christ, 
it  seems  to  me  eminently  unwise  and  weak  to  speak  of  a  holy  Nature, 
of  the  holiness  of  beauty,  or  of  the  power  of  the  sky,  or  of  any  such 
poetic  and  sentimental  representation,  ye^ there  is  a  sense  far  lower 
than  this,  in  which  it  is  right  to  say  that  there  is  a  gospel  also  in 
nature.  That  is  to  say,  when  the  divine  Spirit  employs  all  those  great 
agencies  which  have  an  effect  upon  the  human  feelings  and  the  human 
understanding  and  the  human  imagination,  guides  them,  and  uses 
them  for  education,  in  a  subordinate  degree,  nature  itself  then  does- 
become  a  kind  of  gospel  in  the  hand  of  God. 

But  I  think  there  is,  over  and  above  all  this,  besides  the  use  made 
of  the  revealed  word,  besides  the  use  made  of  all  the  great  instru- 
mentalities of  society  and  social  existence,  besides  the  iise  made 
of  all  the  realm  of  nature — I  think  there  is,  over  and  above  all 
these,  a  direct  in-shining,  a  direct  in-breathing,  a  direct  in-reacliing,  of 
the  divine  soul  upon  the  human  sou.1.  There  is  a  personal  and  imme- 
diate work.  It  is  not  antagonistic,  however,  to  the  idea  that  there  is 
also  mediate  striving. 

There  are  many  that  say,  "  If  God  works  by  the  Word,  how  should 
he  work  Avithout  the  Word  ?  "  Why  not  with  the  Word,  and  without 
the  Word,  and  by  it,  and  over  and  above  it  ?  The  divine  influence 
exerted  upon  a  human  soul  by  the  direct  contact,  as  it  were,  of  the 
divine  soul  with  the  human  soul — it  is  this  preeminently  that  seems 
hopeful,  encouraging,  joy-inspiring.  We  are  to  speak  with  modesty 
in  respect  to  the  limits  of  divine  operation  in  any  direction ;  and  yet, 
it  seems  to  me  that  experience  shows  that  the  divine  Spirit  acts,  aside 
from  all  its  other  ways,  by  direct  in-shining  uj^on  the  two  extremes  of 
life.  This  takes  place  where  human  life  is  in  its  helplessness  ;  where 
souls  that  feel  after  God  are  utterly  unenlightened,  and  liave  no  means 
of  enlightening  themselves.  And  I  still  believe  in  direct  inspiration. 
I  believe  there  has  been  many  a  saintly  old  matron  who,  chastened 
by  sorrow,  has  seen  sold  from  her  sight  daughters  and  sons,  and  borne 
her  heavy  cross  in  ignorance,  knowing  little,  in   utter  want,  with  no 


414  THE   TRINITY . 

pastor,  having  no  friend,  and  feeling  that  society  itself  was  organized 
to  crush  her;  and  I  believe  that  up  through  her  very  ignorance  and 
helplessness  she  lifted  her  soul  to  God,  just  as  in  the  days  of  the 
apostles,  and  in  the  days  of  the  jDrophets,  great  truths  were  made 
known  to  her  helplessness  and  her  ignorance,  and  that  God  dealt  by  her 
as  he  did  not  deal  by  those  that  had  better  means  of  knowing  his 
truth  and  their  duty.  I  believe  that  still  wherever  there  is  a  sincere 
soul  that  feels  after  God,  even  if  it  has  no  law,  and  has  no  gospel, 
and  has  no  philosophy,  and  has  no  instructor,  there  is  a  divine 
influence.  I  believe  that,  for  the  lowest,  the  most  ignorant,  and 
the  most  helpless  creature  that  wants  the  light,  there  is  a  light  that 
shines  straight  down  without  channel  and  without  instrument — God's 
soul  resting  on  the  human  soul,  and  teaching  it  the  way  of  duty  and 
the  way  of  spirituality. 

But  in  proportion  to  thje  exaltation  of  the  soul,  and  also  in  pro- 
portion to  its  purity  and  spirituality — the  very  opposite  extreme  or 
condition  ;  in  projDortion  to  the  impressibleness  and  moral  sensibility 
of  a  man's  spiritual  nature,  he  has  direct  communion  with  God,  as 
friend  with  friend,  foce  to  face.  "  Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart ;  for 
they  shall  see  God."  There  are  thousands  of  instances — they  occur 
in  every  church  where  there  are  eminent  Christians — of  men  and 
women  who  come  to  such  a  state  of  spiritual  purity  and  S2)iritual 
openness  that  they  talk  with  God  as  friend  with  friend.  There  is  the 
direct  operation  of  the  Spirit  of  God  upon  their  soul.  !N"ot  that  they 
less  than  any  others  are  blessed  by  the  Spirit  that  applies  the  Word ; 
not  that  they  less  than  any  others  are  subject  to  the  indirect  opera- 
tions of  nature  and  society  ;  but  there  is,  over  and  above  these,  also, 
for  those  that  are  able  to  take  it,  this  direct  insijiration  of  God's  soul. 
Whether  it  be  by  thought,  I  know  not ;  or  whether  it  be  by  moral  feel- 
ing, I  know  not.  "  The  wind  bloweth  where  it  listeth,  and  thou  hear- 
est  the  sound  thereof,  but  canst  not  tell  whence  it  cometh,  and  whither 
it  goeth  :  so  is  every  one  that  is  born  of  the  Spirit."  I  do  not  know 
the  mode  of  divine  agency  ;  but  of  the  fact  that  the  human  soul  in  its 
higher  spiritual  relations  is  open ;  that  there  is  nothing  between  it  and 
God,  as  it  were  ;  that  God  talks  with  it,  as  it  were  ;  that  it  palpi- 
tates, as  it  were,  under  the  conscious  presence  of  God,  and  is  lifted  up 
to  a  faith  and  a  truth  that  are  not  possible  to  it  in  its  lower  realms 
— of  that  fact  I  have  no  more  doubt  than  I  have  of  my  own  existence. 

There  is  such  a  thing  yet  as  walking  with  God ;  there  is  such  a 
thing  yet  as  being  under  direct  divine  inspiration.  I  do  not  think 
there  is  such  a  thing  yet  as  authoritative  inspiration.  Apostles  are 
over  and  gone.  Prophets  have  had  their  day.  It  is  individual  inspi- 
ration that  exists  now.  It  is  authoritative  only  for  the  soul  to  Avhich 
it  comes,  not  lifting  that  soul  up  into  authority,  and  enabling  it  to  say 


THE   TRINITY.  415 

*''Thus  saith  the  Lord  "  to  any  other  soul.  But  I  believe  that  still  the 
di\nne  Spirit  works  upon  the  individual  heart,  and  teaclies  that  indi- 
vidual heart  as  a  father  teaches  a  child. 

Blessed  are  they  that  need  no  argument ;  and  blessed  are  they 
whose  memories  take  them  back  to  the  glowing  hours  of  experience, 
in  which  they  have  seen  the  transfigui-ed  Christ ;  in  which  to  them 
the  heavens  have  been  opened ;  in  which  to  them  the  angels  of  God 
not  only  have  descended  upon  the  ladder,  but  have  brought  the  divine 
and  sacred  presence  with  them.  Many  a  couch  of  poverty  has  been 
more  gorgeous  than  a  prince's  couch ;  many  a  hut  and  hovel  has  been 
scarcely  less  resplendent  to  the  eye  of  angels  than  the  very  battle- 
ments of  heaven.  Many  that  the  world  has  not  known;  who  had  no 
tongue  to  speak,  and  no  hand  to  execute,  but  only  a  heart  to  love  and 
to  trust — many  such  ones  have  had  the  very  firmament  of  God  lifted 
above  them,  all  radiant.  There  is  this  truth  of  the  Sj^irit  of  God  that 
works  in  the  hearts  of  men  directly  and  in  overpowering  measure. 
Blessed  be  God,  it  is  a  living  truth ;  and  there  are  Avituesses  of  it 
yet. 

There  are  always  some  whose  imaginations  are  staggered  with  the 
thought  that  God  can  thus  dwell  with  individuals  ;  that  there  is  One 
who  has  upon  his  hands  worlds  and  ages ;  One  who  counts  the 
myriads  of  creatures  that  live  in  this  world ;  and  who  adds,  by  imagina- 
tion or  supposition,  other  realms,  other  regions  of  existence.  There 
are  some  to  whom  it  seems  impossible  that  there  should  be  any  such 
personal  influence  of  the  divine  nature.  They  can  not  conceive  of  the 
possibility  of  such  universality  of  presence,  and  individuality  and 
personality  of  influence.  No,  they  can  not  understand  it,  I  can  not 
understand  it.  If  I  could,  I  should  be  as  big  as  God  in  that  di- 
rection. It  is  because  I  am  so  much  less  than  he  is  that  I  can  not 
understand  it.  But  I  can  understand  that  which  will  show  me  that 
it  is  possible. 

A  little  child  sits  on  the  veranda  and  watches  the  worm.  He 
is  a  voyager  for  his  food  on  the  leaf  of  the  mulberry-tree,  and  he 
goes  eating,  eating,  eating.  Let  us  suppose  that  some  divine  power 
enables  that  worm  to  be  so  far  intelligent  as  to  say,  "  It  is  said  that 
there  are  beings  who  can  understand  this  whole  tree  ;  bi;t  it  does  not 
seem  to  me  possible.  I  can  comprehend  how  there  might  be  beings 
that  should  understand  this  leaf,  and  the  next  three  or  four;  but  to 
take  in  all  the  million  leaves  on  this  tree  is  a  thing  that  transcends 
my  conception.  I  do  not  believe  it  possible  for  any  magnified  worm 
to  understand  so  much."  It  is  not  possible  for  any  worm.  But  there 
is  a  little  Sunday-school  child  sitting  on  the  veranda,  who  looks  on 
the  tree  and  sees  the  whole  of  it ;  and  not  only  sees  the  whole  of  it, 
but  can  individualize  the  leaves  at  its  pleasure.    How  easy  it  is  for 


416  THE   TRINITY. 

that  little  child  to  take  in  that  whole  tree  !  and  how  hard  it  is  for 
that  worm  to  take  in  more  than  three  leaves !  And  let  that  child 
grow  up,  and  be  educated,  and  trained  in  landscajie  gardening,  and  it 
will  take  in,  not  merely  a  tree,  but  a  whole  forest.  If  one  leaf  is 
colored,  if  one  twig  is  broken,  if  there  is  a  dry  branch,  it  does  not 
escape  his  notice.  Differences  of  hue,  light,  and  shadow,  the  infinite 
diversities  that  come  in  forest  life — he  takes  them  all  in,  and  has  a 
kind  of  omnipresence  in  his  consciousness  of  the  facts  of  this  whole 
matter.  What  could  a  worm  understand  or  imagine  of  a  being  that 
is  competent  to  take  in  the  realm  of  philosophy,  and  that  makes  him- 
self the  measure  of  creation  ?  He  says,  "  It  does  not  seem  reasona- 
ble to  me  that  any  body  can  understand  more  than  twenty  leaves.  I 
can  not ;  and  I  do  not  see  how  any  body  else  can."  And  yet,  do  not 
you  understand  how  a  person  can  take  in  sections,  and  gradations, 
and  ranks,  and  degrees  infinitely  above  what  a  worm  could  under- 
stand ?  And  have  you  any  thing  more  to  do  than  to  carry  on  that 
idea  to  imagine  a  Being  before  whom  all  eternity  passes,  and  to  whom 
all  the  infinite  treasures  of  this  eternity  shall  be  just  as  simple  as  to 
you  the  leaves  on  the  individual  tree  are  ?  It  only  requires  magni- 
tude of  being,  infinity. 

I  pass  briefly  to  some  of  the  uses  that  we  may  make  of  this  doc- 
trine of  the  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

However  much  we  rejoice  in  the  government  of  the  Father ; 
however  much  we  are  comforted  in  the  communion  of  the  Saviour — 
and  in  both  directions  there  is  ample,  inexhaustible  food  for  joy  in 
reflection — there  is  also  a  special  joy  in  this  revelation  of  the  divine 
Spirit,  as  the  revelation  of  a  Spirit  whose  special  work  is  dealing  with 
the  human  soul.  More  and  more.  Christian  civilization  leads  us  to 
think  of  men,  not  ethnographically,  not  in  the  relations  of  political 
economy  as  workei's,  not  as  subjects  or  citizens,  but  as  thinkers  ; 
creatures  of  the  soul ;  creatures  of  the  affection.  More  and  more,  the 
tendencies  ot  civilization  under  Christianity  are  to  take  man  out  of 
the  accidents  of  time  and  place,  and  consider  him  more  as  a  spirit. 
And  this  thought  of  man  in  his  pure  spiritual  existence  is  a  thought 
that  is  cumbered  with  difiiculties  when  we  attempt  to  give  it  any 
practical  direction.  The  attempt  to  educate  men ;  the  attempt,  for 
instance,  to  subdue  the  evil  that  is  in  them,  or  to  turn  it,  and  make  it 
subsidiary  to  good  ;  the  attempt  to  lift  men  from  out  of  their  animal- 
ism and  into  their  true  spiritual  manhood — this  is  the  most  discou- 
raging aspect  in  which  we  ever  look  upon  human  life. 

Though  we  may  not  know  how,  though  we  may  not  have  any  phi- 
losophy of  itjit  is  a  source  of  great  joy,  and  of  very  great  courage,  that 
the  soul-world  of  man  is  open,  and  that  there  is  in  the  divine  economy 
a  nature  specially  disclosed,  a  power  specially  set  forth,  toward  that 


THE   TRINITY.  417 

While  there  is  the  government  of  the  material  and  physical  world ; 
while  there  is  the  government  of  society ;  while  there  is  the  great 
unvailing  of  the  divine  providential  government,  there  is  a  special 
joy  in  the  thought  that  there  is  a  revealed  manifestation  of  God,  that 
there  is  a  personality  of  God,  that  there  is  the  revelation  of  a  divine 
Being  that  takes  charge  of  the  thought-life,  of  the  spirit-life  of  the 
human  race. 

This  gives  hope  for  the  lower  and  almost  imbruted  races.  All 
things  are  possible,  not  to  science,  but  to  faith.  It  is  true  that  the 
lower  races  may  be  ameliorated  gradually ;  that  by  the  wise  applica- 
tion of  great  physical  laws  in  the  economy  of  God,  miich  may  be 
done  to  change  them ;  but  there  is  a  subtle  and  interior  influence, 
which  science  is  not  yet  prepared  to  recognize,  going  on,  and  which 
gives  hope  to  those  that  take  the  Gospel  into  heathen  lands,  and  preach 
to  the  lowest  and  most  imbruted ;  a  jjower  over  and  above  the  work 
that  is  done  by  the  truth,  and  by  the  blessing  of  God  upon  nature,  and 
upon  human  law^s,  and  upon  political  economies.  There  is  a  direct, 
stimulating,  converting,  cleansing,  enlightening  influence  of  the  Holy 
Ghost  exerted  upon  the  souls  of  men.  It  is  the  hoj)e  of  the  lower 
classes  of  mankind. 

We  are  becoming  so  much  accustomed  to  look  at  every  thing  in  the 
light  of  natural  law,  that  we  despond  when  we  see  races  pouring  in 
upon  us.  Men  say,  "  What  can  you  do  with  the  Chinaman  ?"  What 
man  can  not  do,  God  can.  "  What  can  you  do  with  the  Hottentot 
and  the  Central  African  ?"  I  believe  that  there  is  a  doctrine  of  the 
Holy  Ghost ;  and  while  we  are  to  apply  all  the  great  superiorities,  and 
the  instruments  which  spring  from  them ;  while  we  leave  nothing  un- 
done that  science  indicates,  I  believe  that  there  is  also  a  cleansing  and  re- 
generating power  that  can  take  hold  of  the  very  soul  itself  of  the  lowest 
races,  to  make  them  heirs  of  salvation  through  Jesus  Christ.  And  but 
for  that  hope  I  would  give  up  all  thought  of  the  weaker  races,  and 
would  say, "  Grind  them  as  quick  as  possible,  and  have  them  out  of 
the  way."  The  weaker  races,  looked  at  in  the  light  of  pure  philoso- 
phy, are  condemned  to  perish.  It  is  only  this  doctrine  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  by  which  the  heart  of  God  can  take  hold  of  the  interior  econo- 
my of  the  human  soul  in  its  lowest  estates,  that  gives  me  hope,  and 
gives  me  courage  to  believe  that  they  will  yet  stand. 

It  also  gives  every  soul  hope  and  courage  in  laboring  in  the  higher 
elements  of  his  nature,  against  his  passions  and  against  selfishness. 
"  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling,"  saith  the 
apostle ;  "  for  it  is  God  that  worketh  in  you  both  to  will  and  to  do  of 
his  good  pleasure."  There  is  the  foundation.  It  is  worth  my  while 
to  work  now,  since  God  is  working.  Without  God's  help,  so  hard  would 
be  the  task,  so  insuperable  the  obstacles,  that  not  in  single  and  solitary 


4  "18  THE   TRINITY. 

liours,  but  comprehensively,  men  would  despair,  and  say,  It  is  not  pos- 
sible for  me  to  overcome  my  temperaments,  my  endowments,  my  cir- 
cumstances in  society.  I  never  can  wage  successfully  this  battle 
that  I  am  called  to  wage."  But,  O  man !  however  imbruted  you 
may  be ;  however  full  you  may  be  of  basilar  instincts,  God  is  might- 
ier than  you  are ;  and  there  is  a  rescue  that  is  coming  to  the  human 
soul.  He  that  makes  battle  for  himself  has  God  on  his  side.  And 
there  is  hope  even  in  the  worst  cases.  There  is  no  imagination  so 
corrupt,  there  is  no  heart  so  idolatrous,  that  God's  Spirit  can  not  win  it 
back  again  to  truth  and  to  loyalty.  There  is  no  honor  so  obscured 
tlat  God  can  not  kindle  it  again.  He  who  out  of  night  brings  the 
morning  star ;  he  who  for  ages  has  led  the  morning  light  out  of  mid- 
night darkness — can  not  he  bring  the  soul  out  of  darkness,  and  bring  it 
into  the  light  and  glory  of  the  worship  of  God,  which  is  the  only  hope  ? 

Are  we  to  measure  all  men's  heads  by  our  eye,  and  preach  the 
Gospel  only  to  men  with  high  heads  ?  Are  we  to  despair  doing  any 
thing  for  round,  bull-headed  men  ?  Is  there  no  hope  for  them  ?  Yes, 
there  is  hope  in  the  fact  that  God  is  not  limited  to  human  instru- 
ments alone ;  that  he  does  not  simply  make  use  of  the  Gospel  and 
the  laws  of  nature  and  society.  There  is  over  and  above  this  a  diviner 
and  more  immense  power — God's  inspirational  Spirit.  For  the  lowest 
and  most  desperately  wicked  men  there  is  hope  in  the  Ploly  Ghost — 
and  none  out  of  it. 

There  is  no  person  who  is  attempting  to  develop  a  truly  Christian 
character  who  has  not,  at  one  time  or  another,  occasion  to  be  com- 
forted by  this  view.  We  have  our  hours  of  despondency;  we  have 
our  times  in  which  we  feel  that  it  is  all  in  vain  that  we  are  doing 
some  things ;  that  we  have  a  very  faint  idea  of  what  character  is,  and 
of  what  cause  and  effect  are ;  and  that  we  may  be  making  our  passes 
in  the  dark,  and  in  wrong  directions. 

I  sometimes  think  of  it  as  of  a  child  sitting  in  a  boat.  The  child 
does  not  know  the  coast,  and  it  very  little  understands  how  to  row. 
If  the  child  were  to  be  left  to  itself,  jjulling  upon  the  oars,  its  right 
hand  being  a  little  stronger  than  the  other,  it  would  be  all  the  time 
veei'ing  the  boat  to  the  right,  and  the  boat  would  be  constantly  turn- 
ing round  and  round.  The  child  would  perhaps  make  its  way  out  of 
the  harbor  and  into  the  ocean,  and  it  would  be  carried  away  and 
lost,  if  there  wei'e  no  guiding  power  in  the  boat  except  its  own.  But 
there  in  the  stern  sits  the  father.  The  uneven  strokes  of  the  cliild 
would  carry  the  boat  this  way  or  that  way  out  of  its  course ;  but  the 
steady  hand  of  the  father  overcomes  those  uneven  strokes  ;  and  all 
the  mistakes  with  the  oars  are  rectified  by  the  rudder,  and  the  boat 
keeps  the  right  course.  So  that  the  force  exerted  by  the  child,  though 
misdirected,  all  works  for  good  when  the  father  guides. 


TEE   TRINITY.  419 

Now,  we  have  an  overseeing,  supervising  Father,  a  divine  Spirit ; 
and,  in  the  struggle  of  life,  if  we  pull  wrong,  or  pull  disproportion- 
ately, doing  what  we  do  by  mistake,  there  is  this  directing  Spirit  that 
guides,  inspires,  overrules  results,  and  brings  to  pass  glorious  ends  by 
means  of  ignominious  instruments. 

There  are  many  to  whom  the  doctrine  of  the  divine  Spii-it  is 
preached  who  have  a  conception  that  this  is  something  laid  upon  man, 
as  it  were,  from  the  arbitrariness  of  the  divine  will.  There  are  men 
who  have  unfortunately  heard  of  the  divine  Spirit  in  such  a  way  that 
they  say,  "If  my  duty  was  plainly  made  out  to  me,  and  I  was  at 
liberty  to  do  just  as  I  pleased,  I  think  I  could  go  along  reasonably 
well ;  but  then  I  must  get  this  Spirit — whatever  it  is ;  I  must  say  every 
day,  '  God's  Spirit  permitting  me,  I  will  do  so  and  so.'  "  They  think 
they  must  have  this  divine  Spirit  as  a  kind  of  amulet.  No !  If  there 
is  a  man  here  that  can  develop  righteousness  without  any  help,  he  is 
at  liberty  to  do  it.  I  stake  my  soul  for  yours,  you  may  develop  your- 
self into  an  angel  if  you  can,  and  God  will  not  be  angry  one  bit. 
There  is  not  a  man  here  that  God  wants  to  think  for.  If  you  can 
think  for  yourself,  think.  There  is  not  a  man  here  of  whom  holy  an- 
gels, or  the  Father  of  angels,  is  jealous,  lest  he  will  get  along  too  fast, 
or  help  himself  too  much. 

Do  you  suppose  that  the  teacher  guides  the  child  because  he  is 
jealous  of  his  pupil,  and  because  he  does  not  want  the  pupil  to  learn 
faster  than  he  chooses  to  teach  him  ?  Why,  if  the  child  can  learn  with- 
out a  teacher,  the  schoolmaster  thanks  him,  and  would  rather  he  would 
than  not.  If  my  children  can  learn  faster  in  the  family  than  I  can 
teach  them,  why,  I  am  all  the  happier  for  that.  And  if  there  is  that 
in  you  which  will  guide  you  right;  if  you  have  that  in  you  which  will 
restrain  your  passions  and  control  your  pride  ;  if  you  know  how  to 
deal  with  tempestuous  lusts  that  threaten  to  drag  you  down  to  ruin  ; 
if  your  soul  goes  awhoring  from  purity  and  righteousness  and  honor, 
and  you  know  how  to  deal  with  that  infernal  spirit  which  has  been 
infused  into  you,  then  bless  God,  and  use  your  power.  There  is  no 
jealousy  in  the  heaven  above,  and  there  is  no  heresy  in  the  truth  on 
earth. 

But  for  all  the  rest  of  you  that  do  not  know ;  for  all  of  you  that 
are  blind,  and  can  not  see  ;  for  all  of  you  that  are  Aveak,  and  can  not 
get  strength ;  for  all  of  you  that  stumble  in  the  wilderness,  and  can 
not  find  your  way  out ;  for  all  of  you  that  do  not  know  how  to  perse- 
vere ;  for  all  of  you  to  whom  days  are  mighty  oscillations  that  swing 
you  sea-sick,  as  the  tempest  on  the  ocean  swings  the  sea-sick  voyager  ; 
for  all  of  you  that  have  tried  to  be  good,  and  who  say,  "  I  see  what 
goodness  is,  and  long  for  it,  but  I  can  not  reach  it "  —  for  all  of  you 
theif  is  the  blessed  Spirit  of  God  to  help.     And  to  you  I  preach  the 


420  THE   TRINITY. 

acceptance  of  this  Spirit,  not  as  a  duty,  but  as  a  privilege.  I  preach 
this  inshining  of  the  divine  Spirit  as  God's  great  mercy  to  your  soul. 

If,  when  the  channel  is  narrow  and  tortuous,  and  the  rocks  are 
dangerous,  and  the  gale  is  on  the  sea,  the  shipmaster  chooses 
to  bring  in  his  ship,  and  can  do  it,  without  a  pilot,  who  cares?  If, 
seeing  the  lights  that  are  kindled  along  the  coast,  he  says,  "  I  do  not 
need  those  lights;  I  can  bring  my  ship  in  without  them,"  is  there 
any  fine  for  his  not  looking  at  the  lights  ?  If  he  can  bring  his  ship 
in  without  looking  at  them,  let  him  do  it.  But  if  the  night  is  dark ; 
if  the  landmarks  are  all  rubbed  out ;  if  he  is  going  on  to  the  coast, 
and  he  feels,  "I  would  to  God  that  I  knew  where  I  was  !"  and  if,  as 
he  speaks,  there  opens  up  the  light,  so  that  he  says,  "Thank  God!  I 
know  that  light — now  I  know  where  I  am ;"  and  if  the  light  disap- 
pears, and  he  is  in  doubt  whether  it  was  the  light  that  he  thought  it 
was,  and  it  flashes  again,  and  he  is  satisfied  that  he  made  no  mistake, 
that  he  judged  rightly,  that  it  was  tliat  light,  and  he  brings  his  ship 
safely  in,  has  he  not  reason  to  thank  God  for  the  light-house  that 
taught  him  how  to  bring  himself  into  the  harbor  and  into  safety  ? 

Now,  the  truths  of  God's  Spirit  are  lit  up  along  the  way  of  human 
life,  not  because  there  is  any  duty  of  directing  your  course  by  them, 
but  because  there  is  infinitely  more — because  you  need  just  such 
stimulation,  just  such  guidance,  and  God  is  pleased  to  reach  down 
to  you  the  knowledge  of  the  truth.  He  gives  it  to  you.  Why  ? 
Because  you  need  it,  and  because  it  is  his  nature  to  be  generous  and 
to  give  it. 

Therefore,  I  do  not  say,  you  must  depend  upon  the  influences  of 
the  Spirit  of  God.  I  say,  try  to  be  a  good  man.  If  you  can  do  it 
of  your  own  strength,  well  and  good.  But  every  man  who,  trying 
to  be  a  good  man,  relies  upon  his  own  strength,  soon  comes  to  feel 
that,  unless  God  helps  him,  all  other  help  is  vain. 

Only  one  other  point.  This  truth  ought  to  cut  up  by  the  roots 
that  antinomian  and  wicked  waiting  which  some  men  practice,  or 
profess  to  practice,  because  they  are  jealous  of  the  honor  of  God's 
name.  Here  are  those  who,  perhaps  through  ignorance  or  misin- 
struction,  with  some  degree  of  honesty  think  that  they  ought  not 
to  go  too  fast  or  too  far  ;  that  it  would  be  assuming  the  prerogatives 
of  God.  But  the  very  object  of  the  teachings  of  the  Spirit  of  God 
is  to  loork  in  you  to  loUl  and  to  do.  You  can  never  will  nor  do  fast 
enough,  nor  go  fiir  enough,  to  please  God. 

Do  you  sujjpose  that  a  man,  and  such  a  man  as  you  are,  is  nim- 
bler than  the  footsteps  of  the  Spirit  of  God  ?  Do  you  suppose  that 
you  are  ever  ready  to  work  before  God  is  ready  to  have  you  ?  Do 
you  suppose  that  yoix  have  anticipated,  that  you  have  outrun  the 
divine  will,  and  that  you  must  wait  for  God  to  catch  up  with  your 


THE  TBINITl.  421 

footsteps  in  the  great  work  of  spiritualizing  your  soul,  or  the  soula 
of  your  fellow-men  ?  Do  you  suppose,  bats,  owls  that  you  are,  need- 
ing the  morning  light  to  rebuke  your  dim  seeing — do  you  suppose 
that  that  is  the  side  on  which  man  needs  to  be  cautioned  and  warned, 
lest  he  should  do  too  much,  and  take  away  from  the  honor  and  sov- 
ereignty of  God  ?  It  is  the  doctrine  of  the  blessedness  of  the  Sj^irit 
of  God  that  men  should  be  inspired  to  a  higher  degree  of  activity 
than  they  could  have  in  their  own  normal  and  natural  conditions. 

Never  be  afraid  of  going  too  far,  so  that  you  are  under  the  domi- 
nion and  influence  of  sweet  affections.  Under  malign  influences,  you 
may  be  inspired  too  far  into  fmaticism ;  but  love  never  went  too  fast 
nor  too  far.  Zeal  for  men  never  burned  too  brightly.  The  zeal  of 
self-sacrifice ;  the  earnest  endeavor  to  do  good ;  faith  in  the  solution 
of  all  those  great  questions  of  character  that  fill  the  Avorld  in.  regard 
to  human  nature — these  things  you  may  cultivate  without  the  least 
fear  that  you  will  detract  from  the  glory  of  God's  Spirit. 

Go  forward,  then,  from  day  to  day,  and  you  will  find  —  the  most 
adventurous  man  will  find — that  before  him,  and  shining  brighter  and 
brighter  unto  the  perfect  day,  is  the  light  and  the  blessing  of  the 
Spirit  of  God. 

May  God  grant  that  we  may  come  into  a  more  perfect  com- 
munion and  knowledge  of  this  divine  Spirit,  both  for  the  wants  of 
our  own  souls,  and  as  a  means  and  a  ^^ower  in  us  of  exciting  a  newer 
life  and  a  higher  aspiration  in  the  souls  of  those  who  are  round 
about  us.  And  when  at  last  we  have  finished  our  earthly  career, 
may  we,  with  open  face,  behold  the  mystery,  then  solved,  of  how  the 
one  God  may  be  Father,  and  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost ;  and  how  the 
Holy  Ghost,  blessed  Inspirer  and  Teacher  and  Guide,  has  wrought 
in  us,  until  we  are  presented  before  the  throne  of  the  Father  without 
blemish,  or  wrinkle,  or  spot. 


PRAYER  BEFORE  THE  SERIOiN'. 

We  rejoice,  Alnughty  God,  that  we  are  brought  again  to  this  place,  where  thy  mercies  have 
abounded  ;  where  thou  hast  made  the  hours  of  sadness  bright ;  where  thou  hast  cheered  us  with 
hopes  that  not  all  the  troubles  of  time  could  drive  away ;  where  we  have  beheld  thee  and  the 
heavenly  vision.  Sacred  are  the  places  of  memory ;  and  we  gather  from  the  past,  and  from  all 
its  blessed  experiences,  hope  for  the  future,  that  God,  who  hath  done  abundantly  more  than  we 
asked  or  thought,  will  surely  do  in  the  future  yet  more.  For  what  is  there  that  thou  wilt  with- 
hold which  can  do  us  good  ?  Thou  art  not  richer  for  withholding.  Thou  livest  but  to  give. 
Forth  from  thee  come  endless  influences.  And  thy  joy  is  that  joy  which  thou  dost  create.  Thou 
art  not  malign  ;  thou  art  not  sclfl.sh ;  thou  art  a  Father,  and  art  bound  to  thy  creatures  by  love, 
and  art  administering  thy  government  in  ineffable  love.  And  we  rejoice  in  thee.  It  is  because 
thou  art  a  God  of  goodness  that  we  repent  of  sin,  and  strive  to  turn  away  from  it,  that  we  may  be 
found  worthy  to  be  called  the  sous  of  such  a  God. 

We  thank  thee  for  that  light  which  has  come  to  any  of  us,  and  by  which  so  many  of  us  have 
learned,  under  the  influence  of  thy  truth  and  thy  Spirit,  our  own  deep  sinfulness,  and  our  need 


422  TEE   TRINITY. 

of  divine  grace,  both  for  forgiveness  and  for  succor.  Thou  hast  administered  thy  Spirit  to  us ; 
and  we  have  had  evidence  of  sins  forgiven,  of  peace  and  trust  enjoyed,  at  times,  unspeakable 
and  full  of  glory.  We  thank  thee  for  all  thy  dealings  with  us  in  the  past ;  for  thy  judgments, 
which  have  been  mercies ;  for  pain  and  disappointment ;  for  thwartings  and  obstacles.  We 
thank  thee  that  our  patience  has  been  long  tried,  that  patience  might  have  its  perfect  work.  We 
thank  thee  that  thou  hast  not  permitted  us  to  have  our  own  way,  but  still  hast  by  thy  word  and 
by  thy  providence  been  bending  us  to  thy  will,  until  we  should  say,  with  alacrity  and  gladness, 
"  Thy  will  be  done."  Bring  us  to  such  submissiveness  of  thought  and  feeling,  to  such  largeness 
of  trust  in  thee  for  what  thou  art,  that  we  shall  not  need  to  understand  what  thou  art  doing. 
May  it  be  enough  for  us  that  thy  providences  are  interpreted  in  the  events  that  are  transpiring 
from  day  to  day,  and  that  the  reasons  of  thy  being  shall  be  made  knowTi  to  us  hereafter. 

May  we  bear,  then,  the  things  which  we  can  not  throw  off.  May  we  wait  for  the  disclosure 
of  thy  purposes.  May  we  never  abandon  for  a  moment  the  joy  of  the  triist  that  God  is  ever  good, 
and  that  he  wll  do  only  good  to  those  that  trust  him ;  that  all  things  shall  work  together  for 
good  to  those  that  trust  in  God. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  bless  to  every  one  of  us  the  several  allotments  of  thy 
providence.  Grant  that  we  may  study  contentment  in  them,  and  not  fret  oui'selves,  nor  weary 
ourselves  with  repining.  May  we  seek,  wherever  we  are,  and  in  what  state  soever,  therewith  to 
be  content,  honoring  and  glorifying  God. 

Grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  we  may  have  more  and  more  the  hearts  of  little  children  in  us.  More 
and  more  may  we  look  away  from  the  things  of  this  life  to  those  higher  and  better  things  which 
wait  for  us  in  the  life  which  is  to  come.  Prepare  us,  we  beseech  of  thee,  for  the  future  of  this 
life.  Prepare  us  for  sickness,  for  decline,  and  for  death.  And  prepare  us  for  thd  glorious  meet- 
ing of  the  spirits  of  the  just  made  perfect  beyond  death  in  the  glory  of  the  eternal  heavens. 

And  now,  O  Lord,  we  pray  not  for  ourselves  alone,  but  for  the  whole  Israel  of  God  ;  for  all 
who  love  thee,  and  call  upon  thee  in  sincerity  and  in  truth.  Bless  them  this  day,  by  the  Holy 
Ghost.  Be  with  them,  to  interpret  more  and  more  perfectly  the  way  of  truth  and  the  way  of 
duty.  Unite  thy  people  of  every  name  more  closely  together.  May  vre  not  annoy  each  other. 
May  we  not  seek  division  and  separation,  but  rather  unity  and  confidence  in  the  things  in  which 
we  agree.  And  we  pray  that  thy  Gospel  may  be  spread  everywhere  throughout  our  whole  land. 
Remember  the  waste  places.  Eemember  feeble  churches  everywhere.  And  thy  servants  that  in 
sickness  and  in  poverty  are  seeking  to  spread  abroad  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  Christ 
—grant,  we  pray  thee,  that  they  may  be  sustained  in  their  arduous  work,  and  that  their  sufferings 
may  not  be  iu  vain  in  the  Lord. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  add  to  the  number  of  those  that  shall  preach  the  Gospel. 
And  in  this  great  day  of  necessity,  when  so  many  places  hold  out  their  hands  for  relief,  may 
there  be  found  of  our  sons  and  daughters  those  that  shall  go  forth  to  teach  and  to  preach,  so 
that  our  whole  land  may  be  regenerated,  and  stand  upon  justice,  and  upon  true  fear  of  God,  and 
the  love  of  man,  and  be  purified  from  ambition  and  from  evil  work. 

Hasten  the  promises  that  are  to  be  fulfilled  in  the  regeneration  of  nations.  Let  thy  kingdom 
come  everywhere,  and  the  whole  earth  be  filled  with  thy  glory.  We  ask  it  for  Chi-ist's  sake. 
Amen. 


PRAYER  AFTER  THE  SERMOIf. 

Grant  unto  us,  our  Heavenly  Father,  thy  blessing,  which  maketh  rich,  and  addeth  no  sor- 
row. Sanctify  to  us  the  truth.  By  the  truth  lead  us  ;  but  by  the  Holy  Ghost  enrich  and  sanctify 
us.  Grant  that  thy  servants  may  be  made  strong  to  do  the  work  of  God,  by  the  consciousness  of 
thy  companionship  with  them.  They  are  never  alone— and  never  so  little  as  when  they  seem 
most  alone.  Grant  that  we  may  know  how  to  be  empty,  that  God  may  fill  us ;  and  how  to  be 
weak,  that  God  may  make  us  strong.  Grant  that  we  may  know  how  to  rejoice  in  infirmity.  May 
we  live  in  faith.  May  our  life  be  hid  with  Christ  in  God.  And  then  may  we  appear,  when  he 
shall  appear,  to  be  glorified  with  him.  These  mercies  we  ask  through  the  riches  of  grace  in 
Christ  Jesus.    Amen. 


XXVII. 

THE    FAMILY, 

AS   AlSr   AMEEIOAI^    II^STITUTIOK 


THANKSGIVING  SERMON. 

THE    FAMILY    AS    AN   AMERICAN  INSTITUTION. 

THURSDAY  MORNING,  NOVEMBER  36,  1868. 


"  Seeing  that  Abraham  shall  surely  become  a  great  and  mighty  nation,  and 
all  the  nations  of  the  earth  shall  be  blessed  in  him.  For  I  know  him,  that  he  will 
command  his  children  and  his  household  after  him  ;  and  they  shall  keep  the  way 
of  the  Lord  to  do  justice  and  judgment." — Gen.  sviii.  18,  19. 


It  was  tliis  feature  of  the  patriarch's  character  that  marked  him 
out  as  the  leader  of  nations — that  the  family  estate,  by  his  wisdom  and 
leligious  fidelity,  would  thrive  and  become  permanently  and  univer- 
sally established.  If  Abraham  was  the  lather  of  the  faithful,  it  is  be- 
cause he  was  the  father  of  the  families  of  the  nations  of  the  earth. 

Our  fathers  rejected  the  holidays  of  the  church.  They  did  right. 
And  we  also  do  right  in  resuming  them.  Inevitably,  all  ceremo- 
nies, usages,  and  even  truths  in  their  dogmatic  forms,  gather  to 
themselves  the  traits,  prejudices,  and  errors  of  those  who  use  thern. 
The  dominant  party  employ  all  ecclesiastic  and  all  merely  popu- 
lar usages  in  their  own  spirit.  Reformers,  therefore,  are  obliged 
to  choosfe)  whether  to  wait  for  the  gradual  cleansing  of  customs,  or 
whether  they  shall  utterly  reject  them.  In  the  niomentous  strug- 
gles for  civil  and  ecclesiastical  liberty,  the  great  festivals  and  pleas- 
ure days  were  in  the  hands  of  the  party  that  represented  despotism. 
In  the  church  and  in  the  state,  rulers  have  desired  to  withdraw  pub- 
lic thouglit  from  the  machinery  of  government.  Only  let  priest  and 
magistrate  have  unquestioned  control  of  the  real  power  of  the  state 
and  church,  and  they  will  willingly  provide  social  banquets.  If  tlie 
people  will  not  vote  universally,  they  shall  be  permitted  to  dance. 
If  only  they  will  give  power  to  the  ruler,  he  will  give  pleasure  to  the 
peasant.     And  so  it  has  been  the  policy  of  the  churcli  to  wreathe 

Lesson :  Psalm  148.  Hymns  (PI jniaouth  Collection) :  Nos.  115, 1004.  Anthem:  "Praise  the 
Lord." 


424       TEE  FAMILY  A8  AN  AMEItlOAN  INSTITUTION: 

May-poles,  and  to  decorate  wintry  Christmas  with  scarlet  berries 
and  evergreen  leaves,  and  to  promote  every  species  of  Jewish  holi- 
day. As  calves  and  oxen  were  led  on  festive  occasions  to  slaugh- 
ter in  wreaths  and  ribbons,  so  were  the  people.  Pleasure  in  ex- 
change for  liberty.  Pleasure,  not  justice.  Pleasure,  but  no  rights. 
This  was  that  which  led  Puritan  and  Pilgrim  to  array  themselves 
against  pleasure.  They  did  right.  Innocent  in  itself,  and  indispen- 
sable as  an  element  of  public  education  and  development ;  yet,  as 
there  are  times  when  we  fast  from  necessary  food  for  the  sake  of 
health,  which  depends,  ordinarily,  upon  food,  so  there  are  times 
when  men  must  fast  from  pleasure,  in  order  that  it  may  be  wrested 
from  the  hands  of  tyrants  as  an  instrument  of  oppression.  And  this 
is  what  the  Puritan  did.  The  men  that  curse  liim  are  men  tliat  can 
not  be  in  sympathy  with  him  in  his  eternal  love  of  justice  and  recti- 
tude, and,  above  all,  liberty  tor  all  men. 

Men  in  their  day  were  orphans.  Their  castle  was  taken  from 
them  by  their  guardians,  and  all  their  property  was  withheld.  It 
was  a  poor  exchange  for  their  rights  that  they  were  invited,  as  a 
gracious  favor,  to  dance  under  the  trees  which  aliens  withheld  from 
their  control,  and  feed  upon  victuals  doled  as  a  charity  out  of  their 
own  kitchen!  And  yet,  this  was  really  the  role  that  pleasure  was 
expected  to  play. 

It  is  true  that  at  length  men  set  their  faces  against  pleasure  as  an 
evil  in  itself  There  has  always  been  an  ascetic  element  among  good 
men.  Some  moral  temperaments  seem  to  demand  a  diet  of  trouble. 
It  is  either  a  merit  or  an  instrument  of  culture  in  their  esteem.  And 
when  pleasure  runs  riot,  loses  morality,  and  degenerates  into  self- 
indulgence,  there  will  be  likely,  ere  long,  to  be  found  a  counterpoise 
of  seclusion,  of  self-denial,  of  asceticism.  Pleasure  and  pain  sit  upon 
the  two  ends  of  the  balance-board,  and  in  turn  rise  or  fall,  in  an  end- 
less "  teeter  " — if  we  may  use  a  child's  word.  Asceticism  and  self- 
indulgence  alternately  are  parent  or  child,  oppugnatively  generating 
each  other. 

But  after  usages  which  once  were  fruitful  of  mischief  have  lain 
fallow  for  a  long  time,  and  manners  and  governments  have  changed, 
and  new  influences  are  dominant,  then  these  old  pleasures  may  be 
taken  back  again  into  cultivation,  and  bring  forth  large  harvests  of 
real  o-ood.  And  it  is  never  wise  to  argue  the  mischiefs  of  any  given 
pleasure  in  one  age  as  a  reason  why  it  should  not  be  sown  and  reaped 
in  another.  The  revels,  the  dances,  the  holidays,  the  Christmas 
of  early  days,  threaten  us  now  with  no  possible  harm.  Our  barren 
days  need  enriching.  A  people  to  whom  is  given  a  material  work 
like  our  owii,  need  to  enrich  the  family  and  the  social  commerce  of 
society  with  innocent  merriment.     So  that  they  be  Avisely  selected 


THE  FAMILY  AS  ^.V  AMERICAN  INSTITUTION.        425 

and  judiciously  employed,  we  can  scarcely  be  iu  danger  of  an  over- 
dose of  pleasures  in  our  social  life. 

The  true  Yankee  is  not  a  model  of  grace  or  of  elegance.  He  is 
too  nuich  in  earnest  about  sober  affairs.  He  has  not  the  gift  of 
being  poor  with  a  romantic  contentment.  Poverty  is  never  by  the 
grace  of  God  in  the  estimation  of  a  Yankee.  It  comes  to  him  by 
post  from  the  other  direction  !  He  will  never  be  found  in  a  squalid 
hut  talkuig  finely  of  moral  commonplaces.  Tlie  Shepherd  of  Salis- 
hury  Flam  could  never  have  been  written  in  New-England. 
You  will  seldom  find  in  New-England,  at  least,  a  saint  iu  a  ragged 
coat  and  with  clouted  shoes.  It  is  contrary  to  the  drift  of  centuries 
of  teaching.  It  is  contrary  to  i^ublic  opinion.  It  is  contrary  to  the 
genius  of  the  people.  If  the  descendant  of  the  Pilgrim  has  a  metaphy- 
sical religion,  he  has  a  physical  morality.  If  his  religious  thoughts 
dwell  in  airy  refinement,  he  is  careful  to  secure  a  substantial  place 
for  his  feet  to  stand  on  Avhile  he  meditates.  Aspiration  for  inde- 
pendence, ambition  of  social  equality,  and  a  determination  that  love 
shall  work  out  for  his  children  a  better  lot  than  their  father  had 
— these  are  mainly  the  causes  of  that  pertinacious  industry,  that 
restless  enterprise,  that  almost  fierce  economy,  which  has  made  the 
name  of  Yankee  any  thing  but  complimentary.  The  Yankee,  that 
grubs  and  grinds ;  the  Yankee,  that  pinches  his  coin  with  a  finger 
scarcely  less  forceful  than  the  die  that  stamped  it ;  the  Yankee,  that 
smiles,  is  reticent,  and  grasps,  and  keeps — O  poor  Yankee  ! 

Xevertheless,  who  are  they  that  build  colleges  ?  Who  are  they 
that  found  academies  ?  "Who  are  they  that  beautify  villages  ?  Who 
are  they  that  plant  the  public  highway,  until,  like  a  garden,  town 
reaches,  through  arms  of  beauty,  to  town  ?  Who  are  they  that  estab- 
lish the  economies  that  make  the  state  richest?  Who  are  they 
whose  states  luive,  iu  the  worst  times,  the  best  credit  ?  It  is  tlie 
Yankees.  It  is  to  some  purpose  that  they  grind  for  gold.  It  is  to 
some  purpose  that  they  keep  the  gold  that  they  have  so  hardly  "made. 
Any  body  but  a  Yankee  in  New-England  would  have  died  of  star- 
vation long  ago,  or  would  have  been  an  Esquimaux  ! 

If,  parth^  from  the  legacy  of  old  Puritan  prejudice  against  plea- 
sure, and  partly  from  excessive  occupation,  the  Northern  household 
has  been  more  thrifty  than  graceful;  if  it  has  had  more  of  the  stem 
and  leaves  of  prosperity,  and  fewer  blossoms  than  iniglit  be  desired, 
it  may  be  said,  that  it  has  begun  aright,  and  laid  the  only  foundation 
on  which  tlie  aesthetic  element  can  permanently  thrive.  For  beauty 
that  is  only  beautiful  is  corrupting,  is  weakening.  It  is  pov/er  that 
must  be  beautiful,  if  art  is  to  be  of  any  use.  When  God  made  the 
earth,  and  founded  it  upon  the  deep,  and  then,  after  centuries  of 
world-building,  in  which  he  had  made  the  structure  that  it  should 


426        THE  FAMILY  A8  AN  AMERICAN  INSTITUTION. 

not  pass  away,  at  last  lie  brought  into  tlie  realm  of  vegetation  a 
blossom.  A  beauty  that  precedes  political  economy  corrupts  ;  but 
a  beauty  that  is  developed  late,  on  a  firm  and  rock  foundation,  shall 
endure — and  that  beauty  is  yet  to  come. 

It  is  curious  to  observe  how  New-England  has  blended  the  He- 
brew and  the  Greek  elements. 

I  have  a  right  to  speak  of  New-England  for  a  variety  of  i-easons. 
You  are  Yankees,  most  of  you,  and  I  am  one ;  and  this  is  a  Yankee 
day  ;  and  it  has  well-nigh  become  national ;  and  there  is  not  a  State 
to-day  that  is  not  indebted  largely  for  its  banks,  for  its  railways,  and 
for  its  commercial  prosperity,  to  the  sons  of  New-England.  And  the 
jnen  that  have  the  power  of  life  to  curse  them,  derived  that  power 
from  the  Yankee  sjnrit. 

It  is  curious,  I  say,  to  see  how  New  England  has  blended  the 
Hebrew  and  Greek  elements.     In  its  intense  individualism,  in  its  real 
personal  democratic  spirit,  in  its  deep  moral  force,  and,  above  all,  in 
its  household  life,  New-England  is  preeminently  Jewish.     Children 
of  oppression  will  always  be  children  of  the  Old  Testament ;  and  it 
was  under  the  roof  of  the  Old  Testament  that  New-England  fashioned 
her  economies — for  she  was  a  persecuted  outcast.     But  in  its  vast  ad- 
miration of  metaphysics,  in  its  deification  of  argument,  (for  there  is 
nothing  that  a  Yankee  so  nearly  worships  as  an  argument,)  in  its  su- 
preme worship  of  ideas,  New-England  is  Greek,     The  French  people 
imagine  themselves  to  be  the  modern  Greeks.     They  are^  in  just  the 
same  way  that  swallows  are  eagles !     The  Greek  was  at  one  extreme 
a  sensualist,  and  at  the  other  extreme 'a  rationalist.     The  French 
have  all  the  Greek  sensuousness ;  they  have  modern  sentimentality, 
which  the  Greeks  had  not;  and  they  lack  the  abstract  reasoning 
which  the  Greeks  had.     So  they  imitate  the  Greek  at  one  end,  and 
that  the  lower  and  less.     To  imitate  the  shell  of  Greek  art  is  not  to 
have  Greek  taste.     French  art  is  simply  a  mongrel  having  a  Greek 
form,' with  Pompeian  taste.     The  ajsthetic  element  of  the  Greek  na- 
ture seems  not  to  have  been  transmitted.     We  can  not  find  that  it  is 
a  legacy  to  any  nation.     The  Germans  have  it  not.     Nor  was  it  ever 
found  in  Italy,  even  in  its  best  days.     It  is  unknown  in  France.     And 
if  you  were  to  search,  as  with  a  lighted  candle,  I  do  not  think  you 
would  find  it  in  New-England.     New-England  is  not  Greek  in  taste 
and  love  of  beauty.     But  in  New-England  will  be  found  the  love  of 
pure  reason,  which  distinguished  the  Greek  nation  even  more  than  its 
art  genius.     And  it  is  interesting  to  see  how  this  love  of  pure  reason, 
wlych  was  the  best  part  of  Greek  refinement  and  development,  has 
been  conjoined  harmoniously  upon  the  peculiar  moral  and  social  de- 
velopment of  the  old  Hebrew. 

The  development  yet  to  come,  and  that  is  manifestly  coming,  in 


THE  FAMILY  AS  AN  AMERICAN  INSTITUTION.       427 

the  Northern  social  life,  is  in  the  direction  of  joyousness,  and  I  think 
the  joyousness  of  home-life.  It  seems  to  me  as  though  the  more  sub- 
stantial elements,  the  bones  and  the  ligaments,  have  been  ah-eady 
createil.  The  all-beautifying  flesh  is  now  to  cover  this  substantial 
structure.  The  family,  which  has  always  been  rich  in  social  excel- 
lence aild  in  virtues,  is  to  become  yet  richer.  American  patriotism 
must  be  a  household  virtue.  Our  Government,  our  public  men,  our 
territories,  spread  far  beyond  that  familiar  limit  which  breeds  local 
attachments,  can  not  excite  that  jjassionate  love  which  constitutes  a 
true  patriotism.  That  must  spring  from  the  household.  The  civiliz- 
ing centre  of  modern  America  must  be  home  and  the  family. 

Thanksgiving  Day  is  the  one  national  festival  which  turns  on 
home-life.  It  is  not  a  day  of  ecclesiastical  saints.  It  is  not  a  national 
anniversary.  It  is  not  a  day  celebrating  a  religious  event.  It  is  a  day 
of  nature.  It  is  a  day  of  thanksgiving  for  the  year's  history.  And 
it  must  pivot  on  the  household.  It  is  the  one  great  festival  of  our 
American  life  that  pivots  on  the  household.  Like  a  true  Jewish  fes- 
tival, it  spreads  a  bounteous  table.  For  the  Jews  knew  how  near  to 
the  stomach  lay  all  the  moral  virtues,  and  wrought  religious  develop- 
ment tlirough  the  satisfaction  of  the  natural  man. 

A  typical  Thanksgiving  dinner  represents  every  thing  that  has 
grown  in  all  the  summer  fit  to  make  glad  the  heart  of  man.  It  is 
not  a  riotous  feast.  Still  less  is  it  a  gluttonous  debauch.  It  is  a- 
table  piled  high,  among  the  group  of  rollicking  young  and  the  sober 
joy  of  the  old,  with  the  treasures  of  the  growing  year,  accepted, 
with  rejoicings  and  interchange  of  many  festivities,  as  a  token  of 
gratitude  to  Almighty  God.     It  is  an  American  day. 

It  is  the  day,  therefore,  on  which  to  speak  of  the  American  insti- 
tution, the  family.  Not  that  America  alone  has  the  family ;  but  we 
owe  more  to  it  than  to  any  other  institution.  We  can  derive  more 
public  good  from  it,  and  we  depend  more  upon  it,  than  any  other 
nation  does,  for  education,  for  virtue,  and  for  internal  defense  against 
wasting  evils. 

To  consider  some  elements  which  will  add  to  its  prosperity  will  be 
in  order  on  such  a  day  as  this. 

The  advent  of  so  many  people  of  different  nations  will  tend,  it 
seems  to  me,  to  enliven  and  enrich  the  social  customs  of  our  land. 
We  are  wont  to  look  more  upon  the  conflicts,  and  to  be  more  con- 
scious of  the  jars,  which  manners  and  customs  bring  upon  us,  than 
to  think  how  much  there  is,  besides  these,  of  gratulation.  We  are 
to  look  particularly  to  the  emigrants  of  northern  nations  for  social 
wealth.  Whether  it  be  something  in  race,  or,  more  probably,  the 
final  result  of  climate,  the  fact  is  this:  that  the  northern  races  are  the 
races  of  domestic  and  home  habits.     There  is  in  Spain  but  Httle ;  in 


428        TEE  FAMILY  AS  AN  AMERICAN'  INSTITUTION. 

Italy  less ;  and  in  Greece  and  Turkey  there  is  no  sucli  family  idea  as 
there  is  in  the  north.  Winter,  tliat  shuts  men  up  for  months  under 
the  roof  and  around  the  lieartli,  is  the  true  jjatron  of  the  household. 
Open  skies  and  balmy  Januaries  "vvill  never  know  the  true  flavor  of 
household  life.  Such  climates  are  centrifugal.  They  drive  men  out 
from  their  proper  centre.  But  winter  shuts  up  wood  and  field,  and 
drives  men  and  women  homeward.  The  long  nights  must  have  oc- 
cupation. People  live  together — not  in  neighborhood,  but  together. 
Household  life  in  a  religious  atmospliere  breeds  household  virtues 
and  family  affections.  It  is  not  with  the  heart  as  it  is  with  the  jDurse. 
Society  is  better  off  when  riches  are  not  concentrated,  but  diffused. 
Society  needs  great  riches,  but  it  needs  them  in  a  great  many  hands.  It 
is  average  wealth  that  determines  their  economic  power  and  blessing  in 
civilized  society.  But  the  heart  needs  concentration.  Affections 
that  are  never  intense,  but  are  gently  diffused  over  a  wide  space,  are 
always  feeble  and  inoperative.  To  love  our  neighbors  well,  we  must 
love  ourselves  wisely.  The  intensity  of  a  few  gives  quality  and 
flavor  to  the  general  love  of  the  many.  Only  in  a  compact  house- 
hold will  this  love  be  developed,  and  disciphned,  and  intensified,  and 
made  potential. 

I  am  so  extreme  on  this  point  that  I  had  almost  said  that  the 
frost-line  marks  the  realm  of  republicanism.  Where  men  do  not  live 
in  the  house,  summer  or  winter,  monarchy  will  prevail.  Where  men 
are  shut  up  together  for  long  periods,  and  are  obliged  to  develop 
household  loves,  they  will  have  hearts  that  can  take  in  at  length 
states,  and  form  commonwealths.  And  true  republican  common- 
wealths grow  out  of  the  power  which  is  generated  only  in  the  Chris- 
tian household. 

But  to  return.  It  is  to  our  northern  emigrants,  coming  from  the 
household,  and  bringing  household  ideas  with  them,  and  not  from 
southern  plains,  that  we  look  for  a  gradual  contribution  to  the  social 
and  decorative  customs  of  our  households,  for  amusements,  for 
graceful  imaginations  and  associations.  Not  always  will  these  pecu- 
liar races  flow  side  by  side  unmixed.  Not  always  will  they  rigo- 
rously keep  their  manners  and  their  customs.  We  shall  remit  some- 
thing of  our  rigor,  and  they  will  add  a  little  to  theirs.  They  will 
learn  self-restraint,  and  we  shall  see  reasons  for  innocent  self-indul- 
gence. We  can  not  invite  the  people  of  the  world  liithor,  and  expect 
that  with  foreign  allegiance  they  will  also  lay  down  foreign  educa- 
tion. They  bring  us  capital ;  they  bring  us  labor.  They  bring  also 
opinions,  and  sentiments,  and  customs,  Avhich  are  to  have  a  great 
and,  as  I  believe,  enriching  influence  upon  the  coming  American. 
There  will,  therefore,  be  a  time  when  tlie  manners,  and  customs,  and 
social  indulgences  of  all  the  nations  of  the  earth  Avill  conspire  to  con- 


THE  FAMILY  AS  AN  AMERICAN  INSTITUTION.       429 

struct  in  America  a  household  richer,  purer,  more  iutelligent,  and 
more  powerful  than  any  that  has  yet  been  known. 

The  inci'easing  intelligence  of  women  is  destined  to  have  an  im- 
portant influence  upon  the  American  family.  It  is  in  vain  that  men 
cry  out  against  the  emancipation  of  woman  from  the  narrow  bounda 
of  the  past.  It  is  destiny,  it  is  God  that  is  calling,  and  woman  must 
obey.  The  world  has  uni-oUed  and  unfolded  until  the  time  has  come. 
It  is  a  natural  law.  and  not  the  turbulence  of  discontented  fanatics, 
that  calls  for  a  larger  development  and  culture.  The  world's  history 
has  traveled  in  one  direction.  Woman  began  at  zero,  and  has, 
through  ages,  slowly  unfolded  and  risen.  Each  age  has  protested 
against  growth  as  unsexing  women.  There  has  been  nothing  that 
men  have  been  so  afraid  of  as  unsexing.  Ah !  God's  work  was  too 
Avell  done  originally  for  that.  In  spite  of  centuries  of  unsexiuL;-, 
women  retain  their  sex — and  they  will.  Every  single  footfall  fo)-- 
M'ard  on  that  long  journey  which  they  have  already  pursued  has 
been  a  footfall  that  was  supposed  to  be  a  deviation  from  the  pro- 
prieties of  their  sex.  If  you  should  take  to  Turkey  or  Greece  that 
which  every  man  in  his  senses  allows  to  be  proper  in  woman,  it  would 
be  considered  monstrous.  And  still,  in  earlier  ages,  through  a  hun- 
dred degrees  of  development,  woman  has  been  met  with  the  same 
cry — that  they  are  stepping  beyond  their  sphere.  It  is  the  cry  to- 
day, as  woman,  taxed,  punished,  restrained  in  all  higlier  industries, 
asks  that  vote  which  carries  with  it  control  of  circumstances.  It  is 
imsexing  woman !  A  citizen  in  our  day  without  a  vote,  is  like  a 
smith  without  a  hammer.  The  forge  is  hot,  the  a,nvil  waits,  the  iron 
is  ready,  but  the  smith  has  nothing  to  smite  with.  The  vote  is  the 
Avorkman's  hammer  to-day. 

A  woman's  nature  will  never  be  changed.  Men  might  S2)in,  and 
churn,  and  knit,  and  sew,  and  cook,  and  rock  the  cradle  for  a 
hundred  generations,  and  not  be  women.  And  woman  will  not 
become  man  by  external  occupations.  God's  colors  do  not  wash  out. 
Sex  is  dyed  in  the  wool. 

Nay,  the  men  that  are  themselves  nearest  women  are  the  very 
ones  who  are  most  afraid  that  women  Avill  lose  their  sex!  It  is  a 
latent  rivalry. 

Power  and  versatility  will  not  change  the  social  nor  the  moral 
qualities  which  we  admire  in  woman.  Letting  God  take  care  of 
that  nature  of  things  which  man  is  powerless  to  change,  all  that  we 
ask  is  that  power  may  be  given  to  virtue,  and  that  those  ways  may 
be  free  by  which  power  is  to  be  reaped. 

Weakness  is  not  a  woman's  charm.  Purity,  clinging  love,  de- 
votion, trust,  prudence,  wisdom,  devoutness,  disinterested  sym- 
pathy— these   are   her   regnant  qualities.     But  power   makes   these 


430       THE  FAMILY  AS  AN  AMERICAN  INSTITUTION. 

virtues  greater.  Power  makes  purity  more  lustrous.  Power  makes 
love  stroii""er.  Power  makes  devotion  more  fervent  and  more 
comprehensive.  Power  takes  nothing  from  trust,  gives  energy  to 
prudence,  gives  largeness  to  wisdom,  gives  circuit  to  devoutness, 
gives  to  sympathy  itself  more  clasping.  Now,  when  there  is  poverty 
at  the  root  of  the  vine,  few  are  the  tendrils  by  which  it  can  cling ; 
"but  give  depth  of  soil  and  richness  of  substance  to  the  vine,  and 
power  makes  it  not  less  a  vine,  but  more,  spreading  it,  and  lifting 
it  up,  and  giving  not  leaf  alone,  but  cluster  as  well  as  leaf.  Power 
makes  virtues  greater — not  less.  I  am  not  afraid  of  taking  down 
barriers,  giving  opportunities,  and  saying,  without  regard  to  sex,  to 
every  human  being,  "  Do  the  right  that  God  gives  you  the  power  to 
do,  in  any  direction  in  which  you  can  perform  it." 

In  the  new  years  that  are  coming,  a  nobler  w^omanhood  will  give 
to  us  nobler  households.  Men  seem  to  think  that  the  purity  of  our 
households  depends  upon  their  meagreness  and  upon  their  poverty; 
but  I  hold  that  that  household  is  to  be  the  strongest,  not  only,  but  the 
purest,  the  richest,  the  sweetest,  and  the  most  full  of  delicacies  as 
well,  which  has  in  it  the  most  of  j^owerand  of  treasure.  Augment  the 
thinking  power  of  womanhood.  You  detract  in  nowise  from  her  mo- 
tive power.  Is  the  heart  cheated  by  the  husband's  head '?  Nay  ;  it 
is  rendered  stronger.  The  frailty  of  the  fair  sex  wall  cease  to  be 
a  theme  of  deriding  poets  yet,  one  day,  when  women  learn  that 
strength  is  feminine,  and  that  weakness  is  the  accident  of  sex, 
and  not  the  beauty  nor  glory.  That  will  be  a  wholesome  and 
happy  period  when  men  and  women  alike  will  be  left  free  to  follow 
the  call  of  God  in  their  own  genius.  The  time  will  come  when  there 
will  be  liberty  for  all  who  are  ordained  artists  to  become  artists 
without  rebuke,  when  scholars  may  become  scholars,  and  when 
orators  may  be  orators,  whether  they  be  men  or  women.  The 
question  shall  not  be,  "  Is  it  he,  or  is  it  she,  that  would  do  this 
thing  ?"  but  only  this,  "  Hast  ihon  2)oicer  to  do  this  thing  ?" 

While  we  have  little  to  fear  from  these  supposed  dangers,  there 
are,  however,  many  dangers  which  impend  and  threaten  the  family, 
which  we  do  well  to  consider. 

Chief  among  them  are  such  moi*al  or  organic  elements  of  society 
as  shall  restrain  men  from  an  early  entrance  into  the  household  es- 
tate, and  shall  make  the  life  of  the  household  not  a  school  of  virtue, 
not  a  strife  of  noble  ambitions,  but  rather  a  strife  of  self-indulgence 
and  hypocritical  ostentation. 

The  extravagance  of  living,  to  which  woman's  vanity  largely  con- 
tributes, and  from  which,  had  she  a  larger  sphere  of  excitement, 
she  would  be  measurably  delivered,  tends  powerfully  to  undermine 
the  family.     In  the  main  she  is  shut  up  to  clothes  and  to  a  narrow 


THE  FAMILY  AS  AN  AMERICAN  INSTITUTION.       431 

circle.  And  that  very  longing  and  yearning  for  approbation  which 
in  some  respects  we  are  so  fond  of  praising;  that  very  desire 
for  favor  and  for  praise  which  might  as  well  shine  in  ideas,  in  crea- 
tive acts,  as  in  garments  or  in  ostentatious  and  ill-afforded  tables, 
will  yet,  one  day,  be  turned  by  culture  to  the  uses  of  virtue  and  of 
power. 

But  now  young  men  just  beginning  life  need  what  they  can  not 
have.  At  no  after  period,  perhaps,  in  their  life,  do  young  men  need 
the  inspiration  of  virtuous  love,  and  the  sympathy  of  a  companion 
in  their  self-denying  toil,  as  when  they  first  enter  the  battle  for  their 
own  support.  Early  marriages  are  permanent  moralities,  and  de- 
ferred marriages  are  temptations  to  Avickedness.  And  yet  every 
year  it  becomes  more  and  more  difficult,  concurrent  with  the  reign- 
ing ideas  of  society,  for  young  men  to  enter  upon  that  matrimonial 
state  which  is  the  i:»roj)er  guard  of  their  virtue,  as  well  as  the  source 
of  their  courage  and  enteriirise.  The  battle  of  life  is  almost  always 
at  the  beginning.  There  it  is  that  a  man  needs  wedlock.  But  a 
wicked  and  ridiculous  public  sentiment  puts  a  mai)  who  is  in  society, 
or  out  of  society,  for  that  matter,  largely  on  the  ground  of  condition, 
and  not  of  disposition  and  character.  The  man  that  has  means 
wherewith  he  can  visibly  live  amply,  is  in  good  society,  as  a  general 
rule.  The  man  that  has  virtue  and  sterling  manliness,  but  has 
nothing  withal  external  to  show,  is  not  usually  considered  in  good 
society. 

Ambitious  young  men  will  not,  therefore,  marry  until  they  can 
meet  their  expenses ;  but  that  is  deferring  for  years  and  years  the 
indisj^ensable  virtue.  Society  is  bad  where  two  cannot  live  cheaper 
than  one  !  and  young  men  are  under  bad  influences  who,  when  in  the 
very  morning  of  life,  and  better  fitted  than  at  any  later  period  to 
grow  together  with  one  who  is  their  equal  and  mate,  are  debarred  from 
marrying,  through  scores  of  years,  from  mere  prudential  considera- 
tions ;  and  the  heart  and  the  life  are  sacrificed  to  the  pocket.  They  are 
tempted  to  substitute  ambition  for  love,  when  at  last,  over  tlie  ashes  and 
expiring  embers  of  their  early  romance,  they  select  their  wife.  It  is 
said  that  men  who  wait  till  they  are  forty  or  forty-five  years  of  age, 
select  prudently.  Alas  for  the  wife  who  was  not  first  a  sweetheart ! 
Prudence  is  good  ;  but  is  prudence  servant  or  queen  ?  Prudence  is 
good  ;  but  what  is  prudence  ?  Is  it  tlie  dry  calculation  of  the  head 
leagued  with  the  pocket?  Is  there  no  prudence  in  taste,  nor  pru- 
dence in  the  inspiration  of  a  generous  love  ?  Is  there  no  prudence  in 
the  faith  by  which,  banded,  two  young  persons  go  down  into  the 
struggle  of  life,  saying,  "  Come  weal,  come  woe,  come  storm,  come 
calm,  love  is  n  match  for  circumstances,  and  we  will  be  all  to 
each   other?"      Woe    be    to    that   society    in   which    the   customs 


433       THE  FAMILY  AS  AN  A3IERIGAN  INSTITUTION. 

and  the  manners  of  the  times  put  off,  beyond  the  period  of  romance 
said  aliiaucing,  the  wedding.  You  have  adjourned  the  most  impor- 
tant secular  act  of  a  man's  life.  You  have  adjourned  it  out  of  Eden 
into  the  wilderness  ! 

The  girl,  next  infected  (and  even  women  fall)  Avith  the  public 
spirit,  too  often  waits  to  be  wooed  by  those  who  can  place  her  again, 
in  the  very  beginning  of  her  wedded  life,  where  she  Avas  Avhen  she 
was  broken  oif  as  a  branch  from  the  parental  tree.  But  a  graft 
should  always  be  willing  to  be  a  graft,  and  wait  till  it  can  make  its 
own  top  by  legitimate  growing.  And  woe  is  the  day  when  every 
girl  says,  "  I  Avill  not  marry  until  my  husband  in  the  beginning  has 
as  much  as  my  father  had  at  the  end  of  his  life."  For  she — what  is 
she?  Who  Avas  it  that  Jupiter  Avon  in  a  shower  of  gold  ?  Whoever 
it  Avas,  that  is  the  type.  She  whose  heart  is  Avon  by  abundance  ; 
she  who  is  bought  into  matrimony  by  house  and  land ;  she  who 
marries  for  genteel  Avealth — she  it  is  that  Jupiter  seduced  by  gold. 
For  all  Avcdlock  is  adulterous  in  which  it  is  not  the  heart  that  in- 
spires marriage.  Noble  is  that  young  spirit  Avhich,  seeing,  and 
loving,  and  choosing,  and  silently  biding  her  choice,  is  Avon  and 
chosen,  and  giving  herself  freely,  romantically  if  you  Avill,  (God 
be  thanked  for  the  romance,)  goes  down  to  the  level  of  her  husband's 
nothingness  and  poA^erty,  that  she  and  ho  may,  Avith  willing  hands, 
from  the  bottom  build  up  their  estate.  Blessed  is  that  Avoman  who 
sees  that  in  going  down  she  goes  up,  and  that  it  is  the  losing  of 
life  that  saves  it.  Blessed  is  that  Avoman  who  carries  Avith  her 
into  married  life  all  that  she  learned  in  the  refinement  of  her  father's 
family ;  avIio  proves  that  she  is  a  Avomau  in  this  :  that  gentleness,  and 
praise,  and  abundance,  and  luxury  even,  ministered  to  the  better 
parts  of  her  nature,  and  prepared  her  to  go  forth  and  minister  ear- 
nestly and  permanently  in  the  midst  of  difficulties.  Thousands 
there  are  Avho,  Avhen  once  they  are  called,  and  know  their  master. 
Love,  go  cheerfully  out  Avith  the  young  man  and  take  part  and  lot 
Avith  him.  Oh  !  that  young  men  would  trust  them  more,  and  prove 
them  better,  and  see  if  this  is  not  so.  How  noble  a  thing  it  is  to 
see  the  cultured,  the  polished,  and  the  refined,  go  down  to  the  A'ery 
beginning  of  things,  led  by  love,  fed  by  love,  and  at  last  rewarded 
by  love ! 

Closely  connected  Avith  this,  also,  is  that  danger  which  springs 
out  from  the  wliole  derangement  and  disarrangement  of  the  social 
economies,  revolving  round  about  this  one  central  point  of  love  aiid 
domesticity.  The  next  step,  almost,  is  the  life  of  the  boarding-huusu 
as  distinguished  from  the  life  of  the  household.  Live  together 
alone,  if  you  have  to  go  into  the  desert  for  it,  and  feed  on  herbs. 
Abhor  Sodom   and    Gomorrah — or    boarding-houses !      Men  some- 


THE  FAMILY  AS   AJST  AMERICAN  mSTITUTION.       433 

times  speak  of  the  meagre  and  pinched  fare.  Men  sometimes 
speak  of  the  inconveniences.  These  are  not  worthy  of  notice.  It 
is  not  these.  It  is  that  men  learn  self-indulgence  there.  Men  learn 
there  not  to  be  householders.  And  all  that  various  discipline,  all 
that  ministration  of  care,  all  that  drill  of  contrivance,  all  that  social 
independence,  all  that  subtle  atmosphere,  indescribable  and  unanalyz- 
able,  which  belongs  to  the  solitary  household,  they  miss. 

No  man  and  woman  can  make  husband  and  wife,  father  and  mother, 
and  householders  on  the  pattern  of  their  fathers,  who  begin  and  con- 
tinue their  married  life  in  this  hot-bed  style  of  existence.  And  yet, 
they  are  unwilling  to  take  a  house  that  they  can  afford;  and  they 
can  not  afford  to  take  the  house  that  they  fain  would  live  in,  because 
furniture  is  so  dear,  and  virtue  is  cheap ;  because  society  requires  a 
certain  amount  of  appearance,  you  know ;  because  it  would  not  do  to 
go  to  the  outskirts  of  the  town  ! 

There  is  a  woman  that  stands  now  in  Central  Africa  teaching  col- 
ored children,  who  is  more  heroic  than  any  one  that  she  left  behind  in 
the  city  of  New- York,  just  because,  the  child  of  wealth  and  the  child  of 
extreme  culture,  she  has  gone  down  to  the  depths  of  degradation,  to 
shine  like  a  star  in  the  night  of  barbarism. 

And  is  not  a  woman  who,  for  love's  sake,  and  for  sense's  sake,  goes 
where  she  can  afford  to  go,  dignified,  and  honored,  and  ennobled  ? 

But  oh  !  they  can  not  live  in  their  poor  cottage.  They  can  not  live 
on  their  cheap  furniture.  To  have  the  stove  within  a  hand's  breadth  ot 
the  bed-room !  To  sit  in  the  same  room  where  they  cook !  To  have 
the  smell  of  food  on  their  garments  when  they  go  out !  These  things 
are  not  the  most  desirable ;  but  ah !  the  essence  and  odors  of  all  the 
living  of  the  week  upon  the  garments  of  a  woman  who  for  love  went 
to  live  in  her  own  kitchen,  are  sweeter  than  the  millejfeur  of  vanity. 
The  odors  that  I  smell  of  the  toilet  are  oftentimes  the  most  distress- 
ing and  offensive  of  any  ! 

A  log  cabin  is  better  for  young  married  people  than  tlie  Fifth 
Avenue  Hotel  would  be  if  they  had  the  whole  of  it  for  nothing  ! 
What  you  get  for  nothing  is  the  least  valuable  to  you  of  any  thing. 
What  you  earn  is  all  value. 

Under  these  influences,  the  whole  of  life  is  written  in  the  wrong 
key.  Men  having  started  on  the  false  principle,  they  do  not  get  over 
it.  They  are  perpetually  tempted  to  over-live  by  their  very  affec- 
tions. If  there  is  any  thing  that  an  honorable  and  sensitive  man's 
nature  feels  and  can  not  stand,  it  is  the  silent  comparison,  on  the  part 
of  the  wife,  by  a  look  even,  of  the  way  in  Avhich  she  did  live,  and 
the  way  in  which  she  does  live.  How  does  this  drive  men  into  dis- 
honesties !  How  does  it  drive  them  out  of  simplicity  and  out  of  bold 
willingness  to  live  according  to  their  circumstances !  How  does  it  teach 


434       THE  FAMILY  A8  AN  AMERICAN  INSTITUTION. 

tliem  to  live  for  other  people's  eyes,  and  not  for  their  owu  actual 
needs !  How  does  it  teach  them  to  be  more  subject  to  vanity  than 
to  love  !  Such  life  is  hollow.  Ostentation  takes  the  place  of  sinceri- 
ty. And  so,  ere  long,  a  man  is  educated  to  be  a  rogue,  and  steals. 
And  woman  takes  on  unvirtue,  because  that  pays  the  bills  of  exti'ava- 
gance  quicker  than  any  thing  else. 

This  is  not  the  way  to  found  an  American  family  ;  and  the  tenden- 
cy of  the  times  in  which  we  are  living  is  rotten.  Young  man  and 
Avoman,  it  is  not  enough  to  shout  in  women's  conventions  for  woman's 
lights.  There  are  things  that  women  will  find  to  do  at  home  before 
they  come  to  these  questions  of  suffrage — though  these  are  in  their 
place  important.  There  are  virtues,  there  are  rights,  and  there  are 
duties,  that  lie  fundamental  to  the  prosperity  of  the  household,  and  " 
so  take  hold  of  a  woman's  very  life,  and  to  which  women's  attention 
should  be  called.     And  it  seems  to  me  that  it  is  high  time. 

The  American  household  should  also  have  resources  that  shall 
make  home,  Avherever  it  be,  the  very  centre  of  household  life — the 
life  of  the  children  and  the  life  of  the  parents.  I  need  not  say  that 
to  make  home  as  strong  and  rich  as  it  should  be,  to  establish  in  it 
reverence  and  respect,  it  mvist  be  underlaid  by  soixnd  moral  qualities 
— qualities  which  can  only  spring  from  a  truly  religious  education. 
I  need  not  say  that  general  intelligence  and  virtue  are  more  indispen- 
sable in  social  life  than  mere  amusement.  But  these  things  we  often 
hear,  and  they  are  taken  for  granted.  It  seems  to  me  that  we  do  need 
to  have  it  said  to  us  (we,  the  children  of  the  Puritans)  that  our  families 
might  become  more  lithe  in  the  joints.  We  should  retain  our  children 
at  home  ;  but  there  is  a  certain  point  at  Avhicli  the  child  needs  to  prove 
that  he  is  free.  That  is  a  bad  government  that  keeps  the  child  as 
long  as  it  can  under  the  parental  hand.  The  true  idea  of  parental  gov- 
ernment is  to  govern  the  child  so  that  the  child  can  govern  himself. 
Aim  to  get  rid  of  governing  the  child  as  early  as  possible.  As  quick 
as  you  can,  give  the  child  liberty,  and  make  him  take  liberty.  Hold 
him  responsible  for  his  own  conduct,  and  give  him  a  chance.  Let 
children  learn  early  to  take  care  of  themselves.  Then  you  will  get  rid 
of  those  fatal  reactions  which  are  seen  when  a  child  has  been  bound 
twenty-one  years,  and  then,  not  having  been  taught  how  to  take 
care  of  himself,  plunges  into  the  temptations  of  the  world,  and  does 
not  know  how  to  take  care  of  himself.  The  reactions  which  take 
place  in  Christian  families  arise  mostly  from  over-governing — that  is 
to  say,  \orong  governing,  which  does  not  answer  the  purposes  of  gov- 
ernment. 

The  time  will  come  when  children  will  not  desire  to  be  continu- 
ally under  the  parent's  roof  Let  them  out — in  the  day-time.  Children 
should  never  be  in  the  streets  in  the  dark.     Older  persons  than  chil- 


THE  FAMILY  AS   AN  AMERICAN  INSTITUTION.       435 

dreu  can  not  bear  that  very  well.  But  in  the  day-time  swell  the 
bounds  as  far  as  practical.  Err  in  that  direction  rather  than  in  the 
other.  Over-restraint  upon  an  impetuous  nature  is  demoralizing. 
But,  having  let  them  out,  draw  them  back  again,  by  making  the 
house  pleasanter  than  any  other  place. 

Social  enjoyments  ;  innocent  games ;  amusements  in  which,  if  possi- 
ble, parents  and  children  shall  both  participate ;  the  resources  of  art, 
and  of  science,  and  music,  and  dancing — and  any  body  that  will  not 
let  a  child  dance  in  the  household  ought  liimself  to  be  set  dancing 
to  another  tune  !■ — these  things  ought  to  be  encouraged.  What- 
ever will  make  the  child  say,  "  Nowhere  else  am  I  so  happy  as  at 
home,"  whatever  will  build  it  up  amply,  furnishing  it  with  the  ma- 
terial of  a  joyous  life — that  honors  and  dignifies  the  household. 

Therefore  it  is  that  pleasures  sought  away  from  home  should  be 
taken,  as  sweetmeats  are,  not  as  food,  but  as  occasional  mouthfuls. 
And  in  all  pleasures  taken  away  from  home,  selection  should  be 
made,  and  those  should  be  preferred  which  take  the  family,  and  not 
those  which  separate  the  family.  If  it  is  right  for  your  child  to 
go  to  the  theatre,  it  is  right  for  fixther  and  mother  to  go  with  him. 
If  it  is  right  for  the  daughter  to  go  with  her  beau  to  the  opera,  it  is 
right  for  the  family  to  go.  It  is  better  to  go  in  a  party,  as  a  family, 
than  for  one  to  go  alone.  It  is  solitary  drinking  that  curses  men.  It  is 
solitary  lust  that  blights  men.  It  is  solitary  pleasures  that  demoral- 
ize men.  It  is  solitary  enjoyment  out  of  the  family  that  corrupts  the 
household.  And  if  you  are  not  at  home  provided  with  all  that  is 
needful,  and  you  go'  forth  for  entertainment  and  instruction,  seek 
those  things  to  which  the  whole  or  a  major  part  of  the  family  can 
go.  Separate  not  the  children  fi-om  the  parents,  nor  the  children  one 
from  another. 

Therefore,  I  would  to  God  that  the  German  beer-gardens  could 
be  established  among  us — all  except  the  beer  !  I  would  rather  have 
the  beer  than  to  have  your  wine !  My  old  fatherland  is  Germany, 
the  home  of  our  Anglo-Saxon  blood.  The  old  honest  stock,  the  old 
sincere  stock,  the  old  domestic  stock,  it  is.  It  is  the  Saxon  stock 
that  always  ran  toward  republicanism.  The  monarchical  stock — the 
French  stock,  the  Italian  stock,  the  Spanish  stock — all  ran  toward 
monarchism.  Celtic  they  are,  the  whole  of  them.  They  want  a 
chief;  and  when  they  have  one,  they  fight  him;  and  then,  when  they 
have  got  rid  of  him,  they  fight  because  they  have  not  got  one.  They 
fight  anyhow !  But  the  Saxon  stock  always  ran  for  the  common 
people  and  the  commonwealth.  And  if  you  must  drink,  drink  good 
German  beer!  Do  not  mo<ldlc  with  your  aristocratic  French  wines, 
your  southern  Avines,  nor  any  thing  of  the  kind.  But  do  not  drink 
either !    God's  good  old  wells  have  enough  in  them  yet  for  us  all ;  and  it 


436       THE  FAMILY  AS  AN  AMERICAN  INSTITUTION. 

is  the  best  beverage,  I  never  saw  a  man  wipe  his  dirty  lij)  of  beer, 
or  his  dainty  lip  of  wine,  that  I  did  not  want  to  wash  his  mouth 
afterward  with  watei*.  Tliere  is  nothing  so  good  as  nothing,  and 
water  tastes  like  nothing. 

In  every  other  resjDect  commend  us  to  these  social  institutions.  I 
went,  in  Dresden  and  in  several  other  German  cities,  into  these  gai*- 
dens,  where,  for  a  very  small  price,  wholesome  meals  could  be  ob- 
tained, and  where  I  saw  eating-tables  surrounded  by  whole  fami- 
lies. In  one  instance  I  savv^,  I  think,  no  less  than  one  or  two  hundred 
families,  who  sat  and  refreshed  themselves  while  the  most  exquisite 
music  was  being  performed  by  excellent  bands,  admirable  as  any 
thing  that  we  hear  in  Philharmonic  concerts.  And  after  spending 
the  early  evening  in  this  sensible  maimer,  they  wended  their  way 
home  at  the  good  old  Puritan  hour  of  nine  o'clock — seldom  later 
than  ten.  And  I  thought,  "  Could  such  pleasures  be  bx-ought  to 
my  fatherland,  it  would  promote  the  cause  of  morality — pleasures  so 
cheap  that  a  man  can  take  his  whole  family."  Therefore  I  say  that 
music  is  never  going  to  regenerate  us  until  it  gives  some  other  than 
gold  and  silver  sounds !  It  is  not  going  to  do  it  so  long  as  it  costs 
four  or  five  dollars  to  go  to  a  single  concert.  So  long  as  Philhar- 
monic societies  can  not  succeed  because  they  charge  one  or  two  dol- 
lars for  admission,  and  a  man  can  not  afford  to  attend  with  his  fami- 
ly, how  are  you  going  to  make  music  minister  to  the  wants  of  the 
poor  and  of  the  community? 

So  there  should  be  an  abolition  of  ruinous  prices.  There  should 
be  afforded  means  for  cheap  family  amusements  outside  of  home. 
And  when  the  time  shall  come  that  men  can  have  bowling-alleys,  and 
billiard-tables,  and  music — all  of  them  in  clean  places — Avithout  the 
accessories  of  dinnking  or  temptations ;  where  young  men  can  go  with 
their  sisters,  and  Avith  their  fathers  and  mothers  ;  when  this  time 
comes,  I  think  the  family  M'ill  not  be  weakened.  It  will  be  strength- 
ened. It  will  be  greatly  helped — especially  in  cities,  where  there  is 
no  natui'e — where  the  choice  is  between  the  carpet  and  the  stone 
pavement. 

No  institution,  no  niissidiiary  or  charitable  work,  that  aims  to  re- 
pair the  wastes  and  tli'.'  wants  of  the  family,  shonld  l^e  conducted 
so  as  to  attempt  to  found  a  substitute  for  tlie  family.  The  responsi- 
bility and  penalty  of  the  family  state  rests  upon  society,  and  will 
never  otlier  than  rest  there.  God  makes  the  household  the  founda- 
tion element.  And  all  our  charities  that  seek  so  to  conduct  them- 
selves as  to  avoid  the  recognition  of  this  will  prove  mischievous. 
Even  relief  should  make  the  value  of  the  household  and  the  natural 
virtues  of  the  family  more  apparent. 

But  on  this,  time  fails  me  to  speak  as  I  intended.    I  have  detained 


THE  FAMILY  A8  AN  AMERICAN  INSTITUTION.       437 

you  already  too  long.  The  odor  of  the  coming  feast  fills  the  air. 
Boys  find  an  impatient  appetite  suggesting  visions  of  aTlianksgivino- 
dinner  more  palatable  than  these  discourses  and  discussions  of  mine  ! 
Go !  remember  God's  bounty  in  the  year.  String  the  pearls  of 
your  favor.  Hide  the  dark  parts,  except  so  fi^r  as  they  are  breakinor 
out  in  light.  Give  this  one  day  to  thanks,  to  joy,  to  gratitude. 
And,  on  such  a  day  as  this,  while  you  participate  in  the  bounties  o^ 
your  table,  remember  that  there  is  that  which  God  will  esteem  even 
more  as  a  thanksgiving.  Forgive  your  enemies.  Settle  the  differ- 
ences that  have  vexed  the  year.  Humble  yourselves  one  toward 
another.  Tell  God,  as  you  go  home,  that,  in  requital  of  his  great 
goodness  and  bounty  to  you,  you  cleanse  your  heart  and  wash  your 
hands ;  you  sacrifice  your  enmities  ;  you  augment  your  charities. 
Look  upon  the  poor  among  you,  and  forget  not  the  stranger. 


PRAYER    BEFORE    THE    SERMON. 

We  draw  near  to  thee,  Almighty  God,  on  this  day  set  apart  by  our  ruler,  that  ■we  may  give 
thanks  to  thee  for  ail  the  mercies  of  the  year.  Not  that  every  day  is  not  a  day  of  thankfulness  ; 
but  with  the  closing  season,  auJ  the  ingathering  of  the  harvest,  before  the  last  days  come  that 
shut  the  sky  and  tarn  all  tilings  away  from  the  face  of  the  frozen  fields,  we  desire  to  look  back 
and  remember  the  hours  of  birds,  the  hours  of  grass,  the  liours  of  tlie  pasture  and  of  the  harvest- 
field,  the  open  doors  and  the  granaries  filled,  all  the  bounties  which  the  plough  und  tiie  band  of 
man  have  ministcrod. 

Thou  hast  been  upon  the  sea  and  upon  the  land,  and  given  us  harvests  of  both  of  tliem.  Thou 
hast  sent  forth  our  ships  and  brought  them  back  again.  Thou  hast  fiUed  our  liarbors  with  pros- 
I)erity.  Thou  hast  sent  abroad  over  all  our  land  benignant  suns.  And  thou  hast  shown  thy 
power  and  shaken  the  earth.  Though  thou  hast,  in  the  storm  and  in  the  wind,  fuMled  thy  word 
and  counsel,  still  the  year  hath  been  propitious.  And  we  thank  thee  that  harvests  have  overrun 
the  desolate  parts  of  our  land  ;  that  the  starving  again  liave  given  to  them  the  loaf;  that  the  poor- 
est and  the  most  wretched  have  but  to  stretch  forth  their  hands,  and  behold,  tliey  are  fed. 

How  dependent  are  we  even  for  that  which  we  ourselves  achieve  1  For  what  skill  is  there 
that  can  measure  the  summer  ?  Who  can  apportion  the  clouds  and  keep  back  the  rain  or  bring 
it  from  drought  ?  Or  who  of  us  can  command  the  frost,  that  it  shall  stay  itself  ?  Tliou,  O  God  ! 
dost  rule  the  world  by  laws  which  thou  hast  established,  and  only  thou  art  master  of  the  laws 
supreme.  And  what  be  the  paths  wliich  thy  providence  treads  we  know  not ;  but  we  are  assured 
that  thou  dost  control  all  things,  and  by  law  cause  law  to  work  for  man's  prosperity  and  hap- 
piness. 

We  thank  thee  for  all  the  regal  bounty  of  the  year ;  for  our  part  of  it,  for  that  which  hath 
descended  upon  the  household,  and  made  us  so  happy.  For  so  many  mischiefs  feared  that  have 
never  come  ;  for  so  many  troubles  that  only  knocked  at  the  door,  or  looked  in  at  the  window,  and 
then  passed  by  ;  for  all  those  afflictions  that  entered  and  seemed  to  us  as  enemies,  but  proved,  in 
their  staying,  friends  nearer  and  dearer  than  any  other  friends  could  be  ;  for  griefs  that  brought 
riches  to  our  heart ;  for  griefs  that  cured  us  of  idolatry  ;  for  griefs  that  made  us  hungry  for  hea- 
ven ;  for  griefs  that  had  but  a  moment's  shadow  and  shall  have  an  eternal  brightness,  we  render 
thee  thanksgiving. 

And  now  we  beseech  of  thee,  O  God  I  that  every  heart  in  thy  presence  may  search  its  history, 
and  see  how  much  occasion  it  has  to  thank  God  for  sparing  mercies  and  for  bounties  given.  May 
every  one  look  through  the  household,  not  with  envious  eye,  to  think  what  God  has  withheld, 
but  rather  with  a  generous  and  grateful  heart  to  marvel  at  the  things  which  God  hath  sent. 

O  Lord  !  give  to  us  that  filial,  that  loving  nature,  sensitive  to  the  least  tokens  of  thy  favor  and 
of  thy  kindness,  and  deliver  us  from  that  coarse  and  belluine  nature  of  the  beasts  of  the  field  that 
still  eat,  and  low,  and  crave  more.  Deliver  us  from  that  animal  nature  that  shall  see  only  occa- 
sion for  complaint  in  the  midst  of  abundance,  because  abundance  was  not  even  greater. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  accept  our  thanks  which  we  render  thee,  that  this  has 


438       TEE  FAMILY  AS  AN  AMEBIG AN  INSTITUTION 

been  so  far  a  year  of  peace,  and  for  all  the  auspicious  tokens  that  now  hang  over  us.  We  thank 
thee  that  thou  hast  been  pleased  to  draw  the  bands  of  this  great  nation,  so  that  they  have  not 
again  parted  and  broken  into  strips  and  civil  divisions.  We  thank  thee  that  thou  hast,  in  sb  great 
a  measure,  protected  and  defended  the  free,  and  now  'ignorant,  but  by  and  by  to  be  educated, 
Freedmen.  We  thank  thee,  O  God  I  that  in  those  essays  and  new  ways  wherein  are  so  many 
dangers,  thus  far  the  tentative  processes  of  this  nation  have  been  divinely  guided  and  overruled. 
And  we  believe  that  those  disturbances,  those  mischiefs,  th»it  have  clouded  parts  of  our  land, 
■wiU  ere  long  rise  and  pass  away.  -  * 

We  thank  thee  that  thou  hast  to  so  great  an  extent  united  thp  hearts  of  this  great  people  in 
behalf  of  national  honesty,  and  that  it  has  rebuked  the  savage  passions  of  men  that  would  run 
riot  and  cast  off  all  law,  and  despise  honor  and  truth  And  fidelity,  and  that  thou  hast  given  to  this 
great  and  strong  and  free  nation  a  heart  of  justice,  and  that  they  have  decreed,  at  their  own  bur- 
den and  expense,  to  maintain,  unsullied,  the  national  honor  andthe  national  pact.  And  we  thank 
thee  that  thou  hast  caused  the  hearts  of  this  great  people  to  unite  together  in  electing  thy  servant 
that  is  to  be  the  President  of  these  United  States.  And  accept  our  thanks  that  he  that  now  is  the 
President  hath  done  so  little  mischief  And  we  pray  that  th'oU  wilt  accept  our  earnest  desires  in 
behalf  of  him  who  soon  shall  come  to  the  source  of  power.  We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt 
clothe  him  still  with  those  same  influences  that  have  guidecl  Mni  thus  far— that  same  temperate- 
ness  ;  that  same  unselfish,  unself-seeldng  nature  ;  that  wisdom  of.  things  pertaining  to  the  com- 
mon weal;  that  judgment  of  character;  that  wise  selection  of  appropriate  instruments;  that 
patient  perseverance  in  well-doing.  Still  give  him  the  hes^ts  of  Jhis  people.  May  those  that 
have  thought  evil  of  him  learn  to  think  well.  And  may  success  crown  his  administration,  in 
harmonizing  the  now  discordant  elements  of  this  great  nation,  causing  affairs  again  to  flow  fai 
tranquil  channels,  and  in  setting  us  forward  on  the  new  era  w;th  all  auspices  of  good.  And  grant 
that  we  may  have  occasion  to  thank  God,  the  God  of  our  fathers,  who  hath  renewed  to  the 
children  the  same  wise  administration  which  first  he  gave  to  those  who  founded  this  free  republic. 

We  beseech  of  thee  that  thou  wilt  accept  our  thanks  that  we  are  withheld  from  all  war  with 
nations.  We  long  for  that  time  when  our  pride  shall  be  that  we  are  a  nation  that  lives  at  peace 
with  all  men.  We  long  for  a  Christian  ambition  to  do  good  rather  than  to  augment  our  own  out- 
ward possessions.  May  we  look  upon  the  nations  of  the  earth  as  our  brethren.  _Dh  !  that.therq 
might  rise  up  among  us  such  power  and  such  morality  among  the  common  people  of  this  land 
that  they  shall  look  forth  upon  the  common  people  of  other  nations  and  call  them  brethren.  And 
may  the  consent  of  the  common  people  of  the  world  be  stronger  than  the  might  of  tyranny.  May 
armies  go  into  disuse.  May  all  that  mighty  industry  that  day  and  night  feeds  itself  at  the  forge 
for  war,  be  turned  at  last  into  channels  of'Qomestic  prosperity.  And  we  beseech  of  thee,  disband 
the  useless  men  that  are  gathered  in  wasting  multitudes.  Oh  1  let  the  white  barker  be  unfurled, 
and  the  silver  trumpet  be  blown ;  and  let  war,  rebuked,  hide  its  dismal  and  bloody  head,  and 
creep  away  to  the  den  of  its  own  punishment.  And  may  that  day  of  prediction  come,  when  na- 
tions shall  learn  war  no  more,  when  nations  shall  have  occasion  to  learn  war  no  more,  and  wheu 
every  man  shall  sit  imder  his  own  vine  and  fig-tree,  and  worship  God,  and  love  God,  and  learn  to 
love  his  fellow-men. 

Hear  us  in  these  our  petitions,  and  answer  us,  for  Christ's  sake,    Amen. 


A    BOOK    OP    SURPASSING    INTEREST. 


HORACE  GREELEY'S  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

Recollectioi^s  of  a  Busy  Life. 


An  elegant  octavo  volume  ;  a  superb  specimen  of  typography.  Illustrated  with 
the  best  ^tEEL  Portrait  of  1\Ir.  Greeley  ever  published,  and  with  various 
beautiful  Engravings,  Pictures  of  his  various  Homes,  his  Farm,  etc.,  etc.,  together 
with  a  beautiful  Portrait  of  Margaret  Fuller,  engi-aved  by  Linton. 

Mr.  Gredey  has  said  of  it  :  "I  shall  never  write  anj-thing  else  into  which  I  shall 
put  so  m\i(!h  of  myself,  my  experiences,  notion^,  convictions,  and  modes  of  thought, 
as  these  Recollections.    I  give,  with  small  reser^-e,  my  mental  history." 

The  book  embraces  views  of  early  New  England  settlement,  the  author's  own 
youthful  life,  education,  apprenticeship,  adventures,  professional  and  political 
reminiscences,  experience  in  Congi-ess,  newspaper-life  in  New  York,  and  much 
useful  itallt  about  farms  and  farming.  It  is  a  peculiarly  entertaining  and  valuable 
work,  —  at  look  behind  the  scenes  during  an  important  period  of  the  country's  his- 
tory, —  a  book  to  be  read  with  interest  by  Business  Men,  Farmers,  Literary  Men, 
Young  Men,  Students  of  the  Times,  the  Women  of  America,  Politicians,  Men  of 
the  South,  Northern  Loyalists,  Inldligent  Thinkers  of  all  Classes. 

PrjCE^:  Extra  Cloth,  $3.50;  Library  Style  (Sheep),  $4.50;  Half  Morocco, 
$  5.00  ;sSalf  Calf,  elegant,  $6.00.  Sold  only  by  Subscription.  Exclusive  territory 
given,  ^i'  "  r 

;;•  ,   J.  B.  FORD  &   CO., 
164  Nassau  St.,  Printing-House  Square,  New  York. 


We  venture  to  predict  for  this  book  a  large 
sale.  It  is  valuable  as  a  truthful  record' of  the 
career  of  one  of  the  most  remarkablfe  rtren  in 
America,  and  as  a  sketch  of  some  of  the  most 
important  events  in  the  later  history  of  the 
country.  i' 


Opinions  of  the  Press,  Rdigious  and  Secular,  of  all  shades  of  politics,  and  in 
every  section  of  the  country,  may  be  found  on  this  and  the  following  pages. 

Independent.  '■'•  manner  in  which  the  work  has  been  accom- 

plished, and  the  points  of  interest  which  it  pre- 
sents to  the  public,  we  are  not  at  liberty  to 
speak  in  this  journal.  The  meclianical  execu- 
tion of  the  work  is  highly  creditable  to  the 
publishers.  It  is  printed  on  type  and  paper  of 
unusual  excellence,  and  the  binding  is  at  once 
substantial  and  elegant.  The  portrait  of  Mr. 
Greeley,  from  Brady's  photograph,  is  a  strik- 
ing likeness,  and  the  other  embellishments  of 
the  volume  add  both  to  its  interest  and  value. 
New  Torlc  Tribune. 

The  personal  career  of  Mr.  Greeley  was 
brought  before  the  public  several  years  ago,  in 
the  liyely  volume  devoted  to  his  biography, 
by  Mr.  James  Parton.  No  materials,  how- 
ever, w^ere  fumi.shed  for  that  work  by  Mr. 
Greeley  himself,  who  had  never  been  m  the 
habit  of  preserving  any  memoranda  relating  to 
his  own  historj',  and  the  present  volume,  ac- 
cordingly, is  the  first  production  on  the  sub- 
ject which  can  claim  an  autobiographical  char- 
acter. At  the  same  time,  it  of  course  involves 
copious  reminiscences  of  the  political  devel- 
opments of  the  last  twenty-five  years.     Of  the 


NeAV  York  Times. 

One  of  the  most  amusing  things  we  have 
heard  lately  is  that  Mr.  Greeley's  just  pub- 
lished RrcoHectioHs,  a  book  which  began  by 
selling  furiously  in  the  Middle  and  New  Eng- 
land States,  finds,  out  West,  a  serious  obsta- 
cle in  the  bailing  of  Jefferson  Davis.  In  the 
first  place,  we  had  supposed  that  everybody 
had  come  to  rejoice  at  Mr.  Greeley's  conduct 
in  helping  to  relieve  the  government   of  an 


embarrassing  prisoner,  wHbm  they  were  not 
ready  to  try,  whom  they  wanted  within  reach, 
and  whom  yet  they  did  not  wish  to  keep  in 
confinement,  not  being  able  to  give  him  — 
what  the  worst  criminal  may  claim  —  a  fair 
and  speedy  trial.  But,  aside  from  that,  the 
bailing  aftair  was  but  one  incident  in  Greeley's 
BiisyLi/c,  and  if  his  oddities  are  worth  read- 
ing about  at  all,  certainly  that  one,  which  so 
stirred  up  the  minds  of  his  discifles,  is  just 
the  one  which  they  ought  to  understand.  It 
is  funny  to  see  how  people  will  let  their  polit- 
ical feelings  and  prejudices  warp  their  common 
sense. 


Brick  Pomeroy's  Democrat. 

(N.  Y.) 

There  are  many  reasons  why  men  should 
read  books,  and  those  which  run  counter  to 
our  own  opinions  are  often  quite  as  enjoyable 
and  quite  as  instructive  as  those  with  which 
we  agree.  There  is  probably  no  intelligent 
man  in  this  whole  country  who  has  not  heard 
of  Horace  Greeley  and  of  the  N'eiv  York  Trib- 
7ine,  —  for  the  two  are  inseparable,  —  and  who 
does  not  know  of  the  colossal  influence  which 
the  man  and  the  journal  have  wielded  in 
American  history.  Be  it  for  bad  or  good,  it  is 
^  power,  and  one  that  we  cannot  a^ord  to  let 
go  unconiprehended.  In  these  Recol/eciio7is, 
Mr.  Greeley  gives  more  of  an  insight  into  his 
life  and  motives  than  he  ever  has  done  be- 
fore ;  and  as  the  history  of  a  self-made  man, 
who,  by  using  natural  ability  with  industry, 
earnestness,  and  sobriety,  has  placed  him- 
self, '"gh  among  the  actors  of  the  national 
drama,  they  deserve  to  be  read,  and.  we  doubt 
rot,  will  be. 


Evangelist.  (N.  T.) 

For  thirty  years  —  tHe  lifetime  of  a  genera- 
tion-—  he  has  been  not  only  an  interested 
spectator,  but  an  active  participant  in  all  the 
controversies  of  the  day.  He  has  fought  in 
every  campaign  from  the  days  of  Jackson. 
Within  that  time  almost  all  the  great  men  who 
were  upon  the  stage  when  he  began  his  career 
have  passed  away.  Though  a  private  citizen, 
no  man  has  done  more  than  he  to  set  up  or 
pull  down  political  idols.  His  long^bserva- 
tion  of  public  men  and  measures  is  invaluable 
in  the  record  which  he  gives.  No  man,  since 
the  death  of  John  Quincy  Adams,  has  been 
more  familiar  with  the  political  history  of  the 
country,  or  has  furnished  to  it  a  more  valuable 
contribution. 


New  York  liedger. 

There  are  few  men  3->tntire!y  apart  from  his 
political  views  —  the  •  study  of  whose  lives 
\*ould  be  so  instructive. to' -the  boys  and  young 
hi&i  of  the  country  as  that  of  the,  Hon.  Hor- 
ace Greeley.  He  has  risen  by  his  own  exer- 
tions, until  he  is  now  one  (>i  the  most  widely 
and  most  favorably  known  of  living  men.     We 


congratulate  the  new  house  of  J.  B.  Ford  & 

Co.  on  having  such  a  popular  work  to  intro- 
duce them  to  the  publishing  world. 


Boston  Transcript. 

Mr.  Greeley  is  emphatically  a  self-made 
man,  who  has  risen  from  poverty  to  wealth, 
from  obscurity  to  eminence,  without  any  sac- 
rifice of  self-respect  or  independence.^  He  has 
crawled  to  no  position  he  has  ever  gained,  but 
has  won  it  by  fair  labor  or  fair  fight.  The 
number  of  eminent  public  men  with  whom  he 
has  been  associated  or  come  into  collision 
makes  his  volume  a  contribution  to  politics  as 
well  as  to  the  cause  of  self-culture. 


Cliristian  Advocate  and  Joiirnal. 

(N.  Y.) 

A  goodly  octavo  here  presents  to  the  public 
a  pretty  full,  and  doubtless  a  very  accurate,  au- 
tobiography of  the  famous  "  philosopher  '_'  of 
the  Tribune.  Mr.  Greeley's  has  unquestion- 
ably been  a  busy  lite,  and  it  was,  perhaps,  wise 
in  him  to  write  it  out  while  yet  his  "recollec- 
tions "  were  unimpaired  by  old  age.  For  forty 
years  he  has  been  watching  the  course  of  pub- 
lic affairs,  and  for  more  than  three  quarters  of 
that  period  he  has  been  an  active  participator 
in  them.  Hence  his  "  recollections"  consti- 
tute a  pretty  full  history  of  the  country  for 
those  years,  especially  as  respects  politics  and 
the  newspaper  press. 


Scientific  American.  (N.  Y.) 

Horace  Greeley  is  a  strong  man  every  way  ; 
strong  in  his  likes  and  dislikes,  in  his  opinions 
and  prejudices.  Mentally  and  physically,  Ws 
powers  of  endurance  are  such  as  to  excite  the 
admiration  of  all  who  know  the  amount  of 
work  he  daily  gets  through.  ...  As  a  moral 
tonic,  we  have  seldom  seen  a  book  that  we 
would  more  readily  place  in  the  hands  of  a 
family,  or  one  that  we  should  expect  to  see 
sooner  well  thumbed. 


American  Journal  of  Mining. 

(N.  Y.) 

The  book  is  a  delightful  one,  interesting  on 
every  page  to  the  young  Americans  for  whom 
it  was  especially  intended.  Who  does  not 
know  how  dry  and  dusty  is  the  labor  of  ex- 
tracting from  files  of  newspapers  or  contem- 
porary records  that  political  history  of  the 
country  which  has  not  yet  assumed  its  final 
form  on  the  rolls  of  Clio?  And,  on  the  other 
hand,  who  does  not  know  how  charming  it  is 
to  hear  some  hale  old  politician  tell  again  the 
stories  of  his  past  campaigns  ?  How  eagerly 
we  ask  him  about  the  actors  who  have  long 
since  left  the  stage  !  How  we  thrill  again  at 
the  songs  and  watchwords  of  "  Log-;Cabin 
Days ! "    How  we  seem  to  hear  again  tall 


Harry  of  tlie  West,  or  Webster,  built  of  granite 
fused  with  fire,  or  keen  Calhoun,  or  dauntless 
Douglas  !  This  chatty  volume  gives  all  these 
things,  and  more. 


ProTidence  (R.  I.)  Journal. 

A  handsome  volume,  —  handsome  in  every 
particular  of  mechanical  execution.  .  .  .  The 
autobiography  is  full  of  interest  for  every 
reader,  and  full  of  instruction  for  every  young 
man.  Whatever  differences  of  opinion  there 
may  be  in  regard  to  the  political  and  social 
theories  of  Horace  Greeley,  he  stands  to-day 
as  a  strong  power  in  this  country,  and  the  in- 
fluence which  he  exerts  cannot  be  shaken,  for 
it  rests  on  the  firm  foundations  of  intellectual 
ability,  constant  work,  and  moral  honesty. 


Examiner  and  Chronicle.  (N.  Y.) 

Mr.  Horace  Greeley's  "  Recollections  of  a 
Busy  Life,"  as  published  in  the  Ledger,  with 
considerable  additional  matter,  is  published  by 
Messrs.  J.  B.  Ford  &  Co.  in  a  handsome 
volume.  Besides  this  frank  setting  forth  of 
the  author's  opinions,  and  the  unconscious 
self-portraiture  that  one  must  make  in  such  a 
writing,  the  volume  is  a  valuable  summary  of 
some  leading  facts  in  our  recent  political  his- 
tory, as  seen  from  his  point  of  view,  and  a 
picture  of  some  phases  of  American  life,  which 
It  is  well  to  have  photographed  before  their 
final  disappearance' 


Washington  (D.  C.)  Evening 
Star. 

Since  Franklin's  autobiography,  we  know  of 
nothing  in  the  autobiographical  way  of  such 
fascinating  mterest  as  Greeley's  frank,  straight- 
forward, racily  told  story  of  his  own  career. 
We  dare  say  that  the  autobiographies  of  the 
two  printer-statesmen  —  not  unlike  in  some 
respects  —  will  be  read  by  our  grandchildren 
with  equal  favor. 


Boston  Advertiser. 

His  history  of  the  "  American  Conflict " 
was  begun  soon  after  the  decisive  battle  of 
Gettj'Mbiirg,  and  we  have  here  a  very  interest- 
ing account  of  the  way  in  which  that  laborious 
work  was  executed.  Its  sale  was  wide  and 
rapid  until  the  "  bailing  "  affair  occurred,  and 
that  all  but  stopped  it.  For  the  "  Recollec- 
tions" we  predict  a  broader  and  an  enduring 
demand.  Its  intrinsic  excellences  and  interest  I 
will  always  secure  for  it  an  honorable  place  on 
the  biographical  shelf. 


tinction  In  the  politics  and  literature  of  his 
time  should  be  read  and  studied- by  every  boy 
who  has  nothing  to  rely  upon  but  his  own 
strong  hands  and  stout  heart.  The  beautiful 
tribute  to  Margaret  Fuller  forms  one  of  the 
most  interesting  chapters  of  the  work,  and 
will  prove  of  deep  and  lasting  interest  to  all 
admirers  of  this  noblest  type  of  American 
women. 


Anti-Slavery  Standard. 

His  account  of  Margaret  Fuller,  who  was 
for  a  time  an  inmate  of  their  family,  is  es- 
pecially interesting.  He  speaks  of  her  as 
"  the  most  remarkable,  and,  in  some  respects, 
the  greatest  woman  America  has  yet  known." 

The  publishers  have  added  materially  to 
the  value  and  interest  of  the  book  in  securing 
a  finely  executed  portrait  of  Margaret  Fuller, 
by  Mr.  W.  J.  Linton,  the  distinguished  Eng- 
lish engraver,  by  whom  she  was  personally 
known. 


L.ittell'8  Uving  Age. 

We  shall  find  opportunities  to  make  this 
record  of  a  remarkable  man  well  known  to 
our  readers.  Mr.  Greeley  has  been  an  im- 
portant part  of  the  late  years  of  the  Republic. 


The  Nation.  (N.  T.) 

Perhaps  there  is  not  in  the  United  States  a 
better  known  name  than  that  of  Horace  Gree- 
ley. There  can  be  no  doubt,  therefore,  that 
these  "  Recollections "  of  his  busy  life  will 
have  readers  in  good  store  ;  and  with  better 
reason  than  many  books  multitudinously  read. 
Such  a  career  as  this  volume  describes,  con- 
ducting its  hero  up  from  the  depths  of  an  ex- 
treme though  not  sordid  poverty  to  the  emi- 
nent position  in  the  world  of  politics  and  jour- 
nalism which  he  achieved,  might  well  make  a 
wiser  man  than  Mr.  Greeley  think  more  high- 
ly than  he  ought  to  think  of  his  own  share  in 
effecting  the  great  changes  he  had  witnessed, 
and  to  over-estimate  the  importance  of  the 
part  he  had  had  in  them. 


Frederick  (Md.)  Republican. 

This  history  of  the  struggles  and  triumphs 
of  one  who  has  achieved  such   marked  dis- 


Hartford  (Ct.)  Courant. 

We  are  exceedingly  obliged  to  Mr.  Bonner 
of  the  Ledger,  for  asking  Mr.  Greeley  to  write 
these  "  Recollections,"  to  Mr.  Greeley  for 
complying  with  the  request,  and  to  the  pub- 
lishers of  this  book  for  giving  it  to  the  world 
in  so  attractive  a  form.  We  who  have  kno\TO 
Mr.  Greeley  from  the  early  days  of  the  Trib- 
une, nay,  even  back  of  that,  through  the  Log- 
Cnbifi  and  Ne-w-Yorker  days,  find  many 
things  in  the  book  which  we  knew  very  well 
before,  but  also  many  things  which  are  fresh 

and  new We  can  assure  those  who  buy 

this  book  that  they  will  greatly  enjoy  it 


CHEISTIAN  WCEK, 

BY  BENBT   WARD   BEECHER. 

A  Lecture  Room  Talk,  Friday  Evening,  March  i 

I  want  to  say  a  word  to-night  on  thesuV 
jpct  of  woiking.  Tlie  spirit  of  labor  for 
others  is  the  right  developineut  of  Christian 
life_so  much  so  that  I  ahnost  despair  o-t 
any  very  great  development  or  perfect  de- 
velopment of  Christian  experience,  unless 
in  some  way  it  is  connected  with  work.  I 
don't  think  grace  was  e\er  preached  inu 
anybody.  Christian  grace  is  lO'-ought  out 
Now  there  is  nothins  that  works  out  the 
"races  so  fist,  or  so  develops  or  forms  ihea. 
as  the  right  kind  of  distribution  of  youi- 
thoughts  and  feelingis  to  others.  A  Chris- 
tian "man  it  like  a  garden  of  fruits  anc' 
flowers;  and  the  world  is  as  the  neighbor- 
hood round  about,  to  enjoy  or  to  be  for- 
bidden 


All  the  poetry  and  eloquence  that  ever 
gushed  fruni  the  highest  genius  on  earth,  is! 
utterly  woinhkss,  i^rle.-b  a  man's  heart  is- 
subdued  by  the  s-pirit  of  divine  iove.  Such 
things  come  home  to  me,  not  tLat  I  am  ax. 
ange!  of  eloquence,  but  my  business  comes 
of  "speaking.  "And  U.()uj."h  1  have  the  gift 
of  propht'cy,  and  understand  all  mysterie.?.r 
and  all  knowledge,"  so  that  I  am  even  fit  tOi 
be  a  professor  of  tbeol'gy,  or  of  a  tbeologii 
cal  seminary — "  Th(jugh  I  have  all  faith  so-t 
that  I  coutd  remove  mountans" — that  is^i 
thou.;h  J  were  a  pertVct  entbusiast,  "  and 
have  not  lute,  I  am  ni)tLii>g;"  '-and though 
I  bestoi\' all  my  go^ds  to  feed  the  poof,'- 
(that  may  bettone  through  ostentation  ost 
self-interest,  as  yiui  would  phuit  your  char- 
iities),  "though  I  give  my  body  to  be 
'bu-Jied,  and  have  not  love,  it  profitetb' 
]  uothing."  Kow,  workman,  sharpen  your 
■  ax  ou  that  stoue,  and  go  int©  the  worlds 
'  Remenibt-r  that  working  is  not  faith.     It  ig 


Every  man  has  a  garden  to  himself— it  L«  cjjjg  j.p^j.}^  jj-^  -^vhidi  you  work;    it  is  the 


a  poor  one  with  many  of  you ;  but  never- 
theless, everybody  has  within  his  own  heart 
a  garden,  the  ri>ot  of  everything  that  is 
beautiful  and  everything  that  is  savory; 
and  he  is  expected  by  the  Lord  to  bring  i'- 
to  some  degree  of  perfection.  "Freely  y 
I  have  received,  fret-ly  give."  Distribute 
your  fruits,  whatever  they  are.  To  appb 
this:  I  see  a  great  many  perf^ons  workinj 
witln  a  rebuking  ,sen«e,  holding  men  to< 
strictly  to  accoimtability,  and  talking  U 
them  too  severely.  When  a  person  i! 
going  to  wcwk  for  otlters  he  must  havi 
som' thing  in  him  worth  giving  to  then 
Tea<  hing  tln-m  a  few  ideas  is  not  working 
ThCie  must,  be  s<inie  flavor  in  you,  som< 
atmosphere  in  ^our  own  soul.  In  the  gai 
den  of  the  Lnrcl  within  ynu,  you  have  go'i 
to  develop  your  own  tenderness,  your  gen- 
erosity, patience,  forbearance,  heroic  self- 
denial;  you  have  got  to  take  care  of  you;: 
mei  kuess,  your  i'aith.      There  ate   a  grea 


garden  out  of  wliich  you  get  your  Iruits 

and  flowers  that  determines  ho>v  well   anc^ 

wisely  you  work,  how  much  of  Christ  yot^' 

cany   with  you   in  your   work.      Nobody 

r  needs  to  be  so  good   a  Christian   as  those 

c  who  try  to  make  Christians  of  other  peo- 

l  pie.    So  much  tor  to-night. 

Aftei-  a  pause,  and  no  brother  continuinf 
the  sentiment,  Mr.  Beecher  9»id,  let  ii 
sing  the  same  hymn  and  the  same  turn 
again.    It  was : 

"  Son  of  the  carpenter!  receive 
Tliis  humble  work  of  mine ; 
Worth  to  my  meanest  lot  I  give 
By  joining  it  to  thine."  i 

Two  or  three  members  then  followed^i 
and  after  them  Mr.  Beecher  sp©ke  again : 

Some  little  iijin^s  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment are  a  great  deal  more  to  me  than  the 
U(s  ones.  In  the  parable  of  the  man  who 
fell  among  thieves,  one  man  Icoked  tha'; 
way,  another  passed  by,  but  one  man  camt 


mai'y  motives  that  would  lead  a  man  ti"  w/iere  he  was.  The  trouble  is,  we  don't  go 
wo'k.  Some  love  tr)  wuik  because  they  ai't^  where  people  are.  We  stay  where  vie  are. 
full  of  blood  and  vigor.  Meu  work  "froiTn and  talk  to  them.  If  you  keep  the  dis- 
pride.  Do  you  recollect  that  passage— 11  tance  between  you  and  the  people  very 
>«u  do  it's  more  than  I  do  (turning  to  the'^great,  you  won't  do  much  working  for 
Uibie);  I  can  never  quote  anything— „,  them.  If  a  man,  highly  educated  and  higb- 
'' Though  I    speak   witii    the  tongues  o.'uminded,  talks  from  his  fourth-story  window- 


men  and  of  angels." 

Thnit  is  for  sj\ch  a  man  as  I  am;  natur- 
ally fluent,  apt  to  think.  Because  he  caiJ 
round  out  his  peri<  ds  and  speak  liktfevery- 
thing,  he  is  a  great  Christian.  It  I  speak- 
eloquently  and  have  not  love,  "I  am  be- 
come as  sotmding  brass  or  a  tinkling  cym- 
bal." 


to  men  in  the  street,  they  won't  hear  much. 
You  have  got  to  go  where  people  are.. 
When  Christ  healed  the  blind  man,  he 
"  teuched ''  him.  If  you  -want  to  do  any- 
thing for  men  you  must  get  near  enough 
for  them  to  feel  the  beating  of  your  own 
heai't.  This  is  the  mystery  of  Ctirist.  He- 
came  down  to  the  land  of  n:en,  bringing 
eternal  and  infinite  purity  into  contact  audi 
juxtaposition  with  the  iujpurity  of  humar:. 
nature.  Christ  came  where  we  are ;  and;, 
we,  to  do  anything  with  men,  mast  go  to 
them. — Brooklyn  Daily  Union. 


^i^fo  aitir  ^aluahk  p0M;st]^0ltr  §00k, 

BY 

MISS  CATHERINE   E.  BEECHER 

AND 

MRS.  HARRIET   BEECHER  STOWE, 

ENTITLED 

THE  AMERICAN  WOMAN'S  HOME; 

OB, 

IPrhttipIcs  0f  ^omtBiu  Stunct ; 

BEING  A  GUIDE  TO  ECONOMICAL,  HExiLTHFUL,  BEAUTIFUL, 
AND   CHRISTIAN   HOMES 


The  book  wUl  be  replete  with  the  latest  and  most  authentic  results  of  applied 
Science  in  the  Construction  and  Maintenance  of  desirable  Family  Abodes  ; 
attention  being  given  to  Ventilation,  Heating,  Furnishing,  Decoration,  and  General 
Housekeeping,  as  well  as  the  Original  Planning  and  Arrangement  of  Houses, 
the  care  of  Personal  Health,  Wholesome  Food  and  Drinks,  Clothing,  Cleanliness, 
Economy  of  Time  and  Expenses,  Management  of  Servants  and  of  ChUdren, 
Home  Amusements  and  Duties,  and,  in  short,  to  the  entire  circle  of  Domestic 
Economy  ;  the  whole  being  freely  and  judiciously 

ILLUSTRATED. 

A  book  that  will  find  its  way  into  every  household  in  the  land. 


To  be  sold  only  through  Agents,  by  Subscription. 


Agents  desiring  territory  should  apply  at  once  to 

J.   B.  FORD  &  CO., 

164  Nassau  Street,  Printing-House  Square,  New  York. 
9 


LIFE   OF  JESUS,  THE  CHRIST. 


HENRY  WARD   BEECHER. 


The  Publishers  of  this  forthcoming  work  find  it  necessary  —  on  account 
of  the  intense  and  abiding^  iD,terest  aroused  all  over  the  land  by  their  an- 
nouncement that  the  greatest  living  religious  teacher  was  engaged  upon  so 
important  a  theme  —  to  make  some  answer  to  the  constant  inquiries  concern- 
ing the  book.  Germany,  France,  England,  all  have  their  schools  both  of 
orthodoxy  and  of  scepticism,  no  two  of  which  occupy  the  same  ground  or  help 
each  other  in  dealing  with  the  popular  mind  in  the  different  countries ;  and 
none  of  which  is  properly  adapted  to  the  wants  of  religious  thinkers  in 
America.  This  must  be  the  work  of  an  American,  —  and  of  a  completely 
representative  American.  * 

It  is  with  full  confidence  in  the  attainment  of  this  result  that  the  publishers 
of  the  "Life  of  Jesus,  the  Christ,"  to  which  great  work  Mr.  Beecher  is  now 
constantly  and  earnestly  devoting  his  abundant  energies,  are  prepnring  for  its 
issuance  in  a  manner  worthy  the  public  expectancy,  the  universal  interest  in 
the  subject,  and  the  repute  of  the  author. 

The  work  is  to  be  issued  in  two  styles.  It  will  be  first  published  in  a  fiill 
octavo  volume  of  about  800  pages.  This,  although  called  the  "  Plain  Edition," 
will  be  illustrated  with  several  valuable  engravings.  First,  with  four  superb 
Maps,  constnicted  expressly  for  this  work  from  the  very  latest  data,  including 
the  great  English,  Dutch,  and  French  governmental  surveys  of  Palestine,  the 
present  explorations  of  .Jerusalem  itself  by  Lieut.  Warrex,  Eoyal  Engineers, 
and  every  attainable  source  of  exact  geographical  and  topographical  informa- 
tion. These  are  engraved  on  copper  and  on  stone  (printed  in  two  tints)  by 
CoLTON,  the  famous  map-maker  and  publisher.     The  other  illustrations  are  a 

10 


2 

Frontispiece,  "  Head  of  Christ,"  restored,  painted,  and  engraved  on  steel  by 
the  renowned  American  engraver,  "Wm.  E.  Marshall,  from  a  photograph  of 
Leonardo  da  Vinci's  rapidly  decaying  masterpiece  in  Milan,  "  The  Last 
SupT>er  "  —  a  really  grand  work  of  the  engraver's  art;  and  a  beautiful  Steel- 
pkte  Title-page,  containing  a  Vignette  of  Bethlehem,  engraved  by  R.  Hix- 
SHELwooD,  of  the  Continental  Bank-Note  Company. 

The  other  style  will  be  in  royal  octavo  size,  richly  illustrated.  It  will  contain 
the  Frontispiece,  Title-page,  and  Maps  mentioned  above,  a  series  of  twenty 
large  full-page  wood-engravings,  and  from  fifty  to  seventy-five  smaller  cuts 
printed  in  the  text,  the  entire  series  being  about  completed. 

These  engravings  are  from  new  and  original  drawings  never  before  published, 
having  been  designed  expressly  for  this  work  after  sketches  taken  directly  from 
the  places  represented.  They  are  a  new  and  full  illustration  of  localities, 
people,  and  customs  among  the  scenes  of  our  Lord's  earthly  labors,  and,  as 
artistic  productions,  are  believed  to  be  superior  to  anything  before  published 
on  that  subject  They  are  engraved  by  W,  J.  Linton,  the  celebrated  wood- 
engraver,  now  resident  in  New  York,  universally  acknowledged  to  be  the  first 
master  of  his  art,  and  his  brother,  H.  D.  Linton,  long  well  known  and  highly 
esteemed  in  Paris. 

The  maps  were  constructed  and  the  illustrations  designed  by  A.  L.  Eawson, 
an  artist  for  years  resident  in  the  Holy  Land,  and  thoroughly  conversant  with 
its  features.  The  drawings  on  wood  are  from  the  artistic  pencil  of  Haekv 
Fenn.  The  work  will  be  printed  at  the  University  Press,  Cambridge,  Mags., 
by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 

Concerning  the  date  of  publication,  more  particular  information  will  be 
given  through  the  newspaper  press  in  due  time.  To  be  sold  only  through  agent*!, 
by  subscription. 

J.  B.  FORD  &  CO.,  Publishers, 

164  Nassau  Street,  Printing-House  Square,  New  York. 


U 


HENHY    AV^KD    BEECHER 

PREACPimG  IN  EVERY  FAMILY. 


PLYMOUTH   PULPIT. 


A  LETTEB  FBOM  MB.  BEECHES. 

Bkooklyn,  January,  1869. 
Messrs.  J.  B.  Ford  &  Co. :  — 

Gentlemen  :  Mr.  J.  T.  Ellinwood  has  been  the  reporter  of  my  sermons  for 
some  ten  years  ;  and  he  is  the  only  authorized  reporter  of  them.  The  sermons 
which  you  are  printing,  week  by  week,  from  his  hand,  are  pubHshed  by  you  alone, 
and  are  the  only  ones  which  go  before  the  public  with  my  consent. 

HENRY  WARD  BEECHER. 


Plymouth  Pulpit  is  the  only  regular  publication  of  Mr.  Beecher's  current 
sermons, —  the  one  indorsed  by  his  approval  as  correct,  and  sanctioned  by  his  au- 
thority. It  is  well  printed,  on  good  paper,  in  book  form,  — being  suitable  for  binding 
and  preservation  (the  advertisements  at  the  back  being  easOy  removed),  and  it  is 
cheap,  within  the  reach  of  all.  The  publishers  have  responded  to  the  constant 
demand  for  a  continued  insertion  of  the  Prayers,  as  one  of  the  most  profitable  fea- 
tures of  Mr.  Beecher's  ministrations,  and  the  Scriptural  lesson  and  hymns  sung 
are  also  indicated,  making  a  complete  record  of  one  service  of  Plymouth  Church 
for  each  Sunday. 


Save  Money  by  Subscribing. 

The  price  is  eight  cents  per  single  copy  ;  $  3  per  year  ;  $  1.75  per  half-year. 
Subscriptions  may  begin  with  any  number.  The  American  News  Company  will 
supply  the  trade. 

Clergymen,  College  Officers,  or  others  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  send 
tis  subscriptions  for  four  copies  will  be  regularly  served  with  afftli,  free  of  charge, 
except  for  postage. 

Postage  of  Plymouth  Pulpit  to  subscribers  in  the  United  States  is  twenty 
cents  per  year,  payable  quarterly,  in  advance,  at  the  Post-Office  to  which  the 
pamphlet  is  sent ;  and  on  single  copies  to  England  it  is  four  cents.  This  is  stated 
because  many  underpaid  copies,  mailed  by  persons  ignorant  of  the  rate,  have  been 
returned  to  the  publishers. 

J.  B.  rORD  &  CO., 

i  164  Nassau  St.,  Pbinting-House  Square,  New  York. 


gBlPAY  MtiHT  AT  PLYMOUTH.  ^   MR.  BEECHER 


Beecli«r*«  I.«ctat«  Boom  Talk. 

Beceker  last  ntgbt  *pokoon  Judiis'lan- 

D  loCbrtBt :   '^•Bov  Is  It  tbac  rhou  vUl 

tbysFlt     UdW   up,  and     nol     unfe 


I  tfao  UirlitDinii  aye.  as  ttio 
1  ropresented  by  tbo  tpro^t 
ture.  Aa  tooety  derel- 
■  la  rue  Idens  employed 
I  IB  tben  i-epieeenlod  br  fl«- 


■cpreseDted      to      tbe    low 

lUftoese  IB  EUporoeded  by  b 

"iiraberknowlcdite  o(  U  lustration.  «od  tlie  last 
roust  alwoys  be  tho  best.  Ooa  *n»a  unfolded 
God  of  powoi  flisfi  of  rlghiei 


[   cannot  f 


Cbiiet 


DbiB  I 


ifcrniab'elothecominaDdBOf  CbMt, 
.ve  U  be  fans  over  end  abore  tbis,  bo 
Ebeticr  ;  but  if  be  bus  not  thai  de- 
Qtot   cGQOtioD.  but  ba 

..rnnda       IQ        tbo       ( 


tbei  lovctb  ne.eball 
Kow  JHr.  JudBP.  wbo 
thouBbi  it  ■was  siofl 
m«Difm  blm6«lf 
lorld ;  be^uppoe 


Ctivitt,  tbe 
"And  be 


K  ON  EBUCA-flONX 
Prayer  niectlne  TalA 
.  ICvenlne>  \ 


I  plymonth  1 
Lumt  I 

Thp  Beoolicr  f 
iitteDdaiiisJa<it  eveolDg.  oomparcd  wltb  tiie 
crowds  Lbal  usupUy  bo3h  ibor©  wlion  the 
weatber  la  floe.  The  subject  for  dlscuvsloo 
wnstfae  " Proper R'llBious  Tiaining  of  Ctiild- 
ren."    Mr.  Bccchersald: 

I  caunot  help  tblalEiDR  bow  dlfforeut  the 
liupifssloiiHOf  oblldteu  tbaLare  brouebt  up  la 
tbe  Bpiril  of  the  Cbriallan  oommualty  to 
which  we  beloDB  have  frnm  what  their  Im- 
rlonn-ould  bo  Ifbrouirht  up 
I  surround  me-thow  whlob 


s  in  it  wblob  l! 
undortoke  t 


isbuslDcsg  for 
[■llffioua;    It 

of       children 


power  of  tbe  divine  and  influlte 
of  God  ;  bui.io  tbe  Imaglnatloo  oi  tbe  child, 
thecondomnlnfTPower  ol  reliihon  ovor  and 
afialnst  the  helplessnessot  tbe  child  IB  very 
greni  and  very  ciusbiar.  1  remember  bow 
ciuob  I  suffered  from  a  soose  of  slaf ulaess.  I 
thoURht  tbar  sinful  which  was  slmplr  inex- 
perience. I  laid  upon  myself  the  burdoa  of 
belnir  a  Christian  when  I  was  not  able  to  be 
nnytliloKhuta  biff  boy.  I  oever  had  anybody 
ib«t  look  me  and  brouffbtnU  Into  the  koowl- 
edtreof  the  Saviour,  or  said  io  mo,   "Henry, 


Hel( 


vjuetej 


yourfaLher  or  mother,"  but,  on  the  other 
hand.  It  was  always  tbls,  "He  may  be  yours 
Just  as  be  is  mine  If  you  comply  with  his  oon- 
diUoDs."  To  comply  with  the  oondltioDS,  that 
was  the  the  thing.  I  did  nol  know  tbat  I  bad 
compiled  with  them,  yet  I  had,  fortho  primary 
condition  is  tbat  you  ttro  a  sinber,  and  I  am 
sure  that  I  bad  complied  with  that. 
I  sat  under  preaobinir  enoush  to  raise 
tbe     dE-fld  :     I     sat     under     sermons     nuoh 

preached,  I  am  sure.  I  have  hoard  sermons 
from  my  father  tbat  have  made  me  quiver,  and 
rtmjgot  to  thoTheoloffi- 


colS 


Cbnst  really  Is.    I  iblok  tha 
ounbt  to  bo  made  brifrliter 

I  could  dodfre  tbe  prayer.  W 
ally  prayed  for  the  kioirdoni  o 
Church,  and  for  tbe  world's  con 
much  lor  me,  certainly  not  for 
me  that  I  was  most  i;oaecnied  al 
WAS  one  ffood  thing  about  then 
always  short,  and  always  should  b 


family  prayer 

Christ,  for  tbe 

y    wore 


you   have 

family 

omyera.    All 

I-   break 

dSl. 

the    boys 

and  Impat 

eot.    Having  prayers 

ef  ore  br 

eak- 

fast  is  the  way  to 

nake  Pharisee 

B-    An  en 

PIT 

belly  Is  a  p 

oor  thing,  ospeclaUy  u 

nder  twenty- 

feelinir  wb 

cnTbc 

Youcmnot  havedovotjonal 
smells  the  hot  cuffee-pot. 

The  odora  of  the 

nitcben  and 

ho    odor 

attS'b'r'i^ 

"£;' 

"^'tome' 

thtnits. 

Bat 
the 

mellowest 

and  the 

cbeorfullcst 

Imes  of 

aoy.    The 

should  not  be 

ranged  stltSy 

along  the 

floor  and  0 

lo  °eTu 

bis  legs   lot 
poo  your  lap 

f»'™leyiu 

tr 

If  they  wan 

t    to    for 

bouquet  it 

■oundlh 

olr  mother,  le 

ibem.   E 

on't 

whip  Ibem  II  they  snigger  and  laugh. 

Captain  Duncan  said  thit  when  Mr 
visited  Liverpool  he  stayed  athlahouse.and  the 


"m'^mrnil 

^TbuTthenoxTmo^n 

z 

"be^Wble 

wasallhiid 

the  fli'G-placo  nnd  Dr.  Grabatn  up 

on 

be  other. 

and  wc  banded  the  Bible  to  Mr. 

Be 

asked  him 

M  conduct   the  family 

devotion. 

look  the  Bible,  looked  a 

thetable.andtnensnld  :  "I'll  be 

hanged  If  I'll 

nal  before  breakfast 

broakfasi  p 

cceded  the  prayers. 

Alter  som 

eturthor  remarks  by 

brethren 

nothing  cs 

oept   ciipaeity;    he 

^S 

by  grace 

and  a  good  teacher. 

d 

blii  beai-t  it 

opposed  to  arlthme 

lo. 

I   think 

d  be  has 

got  10  be tn 

Ined.    A  child  Is  not 

lite,  kind. 

by  nature;  he  has  to 

bo 

taugat  to 

u«e  hl8  feet 
and  tbat  Is 

the  problem^if  life  to 

"Jr 

strained, 
am.  to  de- 

velop.  to  induct.    I  do  not  bellov 

y  child  In 

prope?"me 

Su«ttaro(ak«i""nj 

ou' 

>' graoe  If 

are  going  t 
by  t^fnglng 

o  them   or  tolkinir  s 

■"e 

'tcflhem 

you  have  gi 

thun  I  have 

k. 

' 

^^^ 

THEOLOGICAL    CONTEOVERSl-TlIE 
DATIOXS  OF  FAITH. 


rou\- 


The  following  remarks  were  made  by  Heury 
Ward  Beecher  at  the  openin<r  of  his  thu-d  series  of 
lectures  before  the  Yale  Divinity  School,  beo-un  at 
JNew  Haven  last  week:  — 

I  meet  you  again,  ffentlemen,  with  mino-led 
pleasure  and  pain-pleasure,  because  i  ^rceive 
many  familiar  faces,  and  because  in  a  geneialwlv 
It  IS  pleasant  to  perform  the  tasks  that  are  allotted 
to  me:  pain,  because  I  re-ard  the  course  of  Ipp 
tures  on  a  hich  1  am  enteriifff  this  winter  as  bv  f.  ; 

thL  t^l  "Will  take  me  over  the  very  line  where 
the  theological  storm  has  rased  through  evirv 
t/ut'h'o?tfp'?n'"?:  '^  ^-  perpetual  witnesT  of\'h^ 
l\}    ^^  ^^^  Lora's  saying-.    Said  he,  "I  came  not 

ESI ---»"»-"  ■-"-lv,;?ot€.,T 

what  discriminatious  they  are  m^km-  whit  ad' 
Tices  they  are  giving.    Certainly,  it  woVld  be  uafn  ' 

which  has  been  employed  in  times  past     a^d  ^p 

cording  to  a  diflerent  method,  ancl  with  difltrent 

'  tasks;  and  so,  even  while  feeling   after   the   ai^l 

great  facts  which  others    are  feeliViir  nffL-  t         ® 

Ten  L\'he  m'lnmry.''"''' ""'  ^''  ^^^"  ^^  ^^  brech- 
1  think  I  am  very  unsound,  and  not  worth^r  tr,  v.^ 

nf  mn'J.'f  ^  "^*'^^'  ^"'^  «'  ^^^  essential  principles 
of  moral  government,  and  of  its  ends  and  nim« 
and  Of  the  means  employed  in  the  grelt  schem^of 
salvation  through  Jems  Christ,  I  hold  mS  to 

ofhSlk  ^  'so  u'r'e",1i  ^^^•^T*"-  souK'tL'n 
oiuerioits!    .*5o  It  really  is  a  kind  of  vacilliHmi 

as^'U^r  ^""^'^'^^  '^^'  ^  ^^^^  *°  speakm^  to  you' 

as  I  j,haH,  in  respect  to   the   nature  of  man   ai' 

,   universally  sinful ;  in  respect  to  the  nature^f  man 

as  universally  susceptible  of  developinent  ouT  of 

fnTe'specf  ;o'?he'"r'.".,^P'"^"^^  conSns^anl 
respeci  to   the   reality  and   e  orv  of  a  npr 

«)nal  God-a  personal  God  revealed  to  us  in  'the" 
&^'f  ^'"^°;'  *"  ^^"-ee  persons-in  other  word, 
he  doctrine  of  the  Trinity.  In  the  ever-blessed 
truth  of  the  divinity  of  our  Lord  Jesus  C'hri It -tn 
the  history  of  His  life  work,  coneiitmmg  sibstan" 
tially  an  atonement  for  the  sins  of  the^ world  in 
the  doctrine  of  the  power  of  the  Holy  Glmst  sent 
forth  from  God,  by  which  man,  who  needs 'to  be 
born  out  of  natural  life  into  spiritual  life  is  re-en 
erated  by  the  development  in  him  of  a?l-c^int?oU 
ing  Christian  sent,ments-a  new  will  and  new 
spiritual  power;   in    the  great  truths  of  faith  and 

mortim."'?/'?,*^„*"'*^'  "f  two-world  life  andlm- 
Siry^^-^r'?^',''^^''®®Eieat,  substantial,  and  uu- 

ntn^Jl?'K"^',^-^"P»^°^«  I  ■''t-'^'^d  with 'the  good 
men  who  have  lived  since  the  day  that  PauPleft 
the  earth ;  and  1  hold  them  not  merely  in  c^rMty 

^nUn,?,,"*"'"''^  °*"J''*'^' '°^'^'''  affinities  and  theii: 
suuctural  power  but  as  the  wisdom  of  God  and 
the  power  of  God  unto  salvation. 

o■rp'kr^r^7h=®"'l°*^K^™°"fi^  y°"  now,  to  dobytlie 
lwl*P*H'  *'^J^^  ^""^  i"cluded  in  theology  Chat 
me  thP^\"'  ri^'^  ^^  'l'^'  "^■"•^'y-  «"  un<iertake  to 
nlovPdT  1°  !?*'/""  "^^'I  see  howthey  can  be  em- 
ployed to  be  God's  wisdom  and  God's  power  for  the 
rhl^iL""-  "/  i»e"-ttieir  salvation,^  through  a 
change,  into  a  salvable  disposition,  so  that  they 
!?  L),-1»°i^''^  perfect  men  in  Christ  Jesus.  And 
Iv'iii  hl^,'*'""^  ^^'^'  '°  making  statements,  as  it 
l^L  L  T>.?f 'T  ^'\  ''•''  ^  s*''^""^-  ^y  tbe  difJerent 
^Prt^\rL\  f^'^*^  doctnnes  can  be  held  and  presen- 
ted, vaiy  from  the  ordinary  modes  of  teaching, 
on?  ^,T°T,°/^'°^  ^^'°^  the  Variation  is  a  daS 
v^^toc  '■*  '  ^  ^^"  ^^^  '3  t^i3:  that  there  is  an  ad- 
tw  ?k!  '°  ^f ^"'^  ^^""^s  '"  different  lishts,  and 
fLcV*"^,'?  "''"  ^^  ^'^e'''«'  months  in  which  the  pro- 
[nfhr?'*'?'''''°*^"/"P  ^^^  ^eeds  tl^at  are  sown 
n  ^L  '^'a^  ®!.^  ^/^^^  ^"  "l"*^!^  ^  Shall  have  spoken 
}bpJ^;.  ^u"^  "^'  meanwhile.  I  make  errors,  and 
tuey  are  the  occasion  of  bringing  out  the  truth 
h^Zl^^J:^'  '^".°  it.otherwise^vould  have  been 
.brought   out,  and    with  greater  interest  on  your 

^  1  or'.iPr  n,.'t'ill°^  ^°  ,^®  l^^''^^'^  ^'"1  set  at  naught 
■\''iDisters!^  ^  stronger,  wiser  and  better 
—^%* 


PLYMOUTH  CHURCH.  ^ 

„i^  JWr.  Boecber's  Sermon  Yesterday. 

Mr.  Beecher'd  church  was,  as  usual,  filled  to 
ovci  flowing  yesterday.  The  services  Avero 
openea  by  the  reading- of  the  second  chapter 
of  the  first  Epistle  of  John.  The  text  selected 
wasMatthewlviii.,  21!:  "Not  e/ery  one  athat 
saith  unto  me.  Lord,  shall  enter  into  the  king- 
dcmiof  heaven."  Mr.  Beecher  endeavored  to 
show  the  dillerencc  bntweon  an  cmutional  and 
a  practical  lejigicus  life,  a  contrast  between 
the  spirit  of  ethical  and  emotive  livin"- 
Aivione  Jews  scrupulosity  of  obedience  to  the 
laws  was  thona-ht  to  be  the  best  way  of 
iiisiii-jng  the  favor  of  God,  lu  doing  this 
they  ovcidid  the  requirements  of  the  laws 
Pilowiiiffa  litJefor  shrinkage.  The  mainte- 
nance ot  I  he  ritual  law  was  tue  secret  of  their 
cjurch  lite.  At  a  later  period  there  e-rew  un 
,  a  moibid  spirit  of  self-sacrifice.  "  People 
thout^ht  1  hey  were  Christians  in  proportion  to 
the  violation  of  nature;  they  denied  them- 
selves all  their  harmless  appetites  and 
pleasures.  A  practical  religious  life  consists 
m  doing  deeds  of  charity  and  works  of  right- 
ed )usiiess,  not  in  rigorousnops.  Some  men 
luourn  because  they  have  not  evidence  of 
thrtr  acceptance  by  God.  Everybody  cannot 
soe  visions  and  dream  oreams.  A  man  dreams 
that  he  see*  Jacoo's  Ladder,  and  imagines  that 
he  has  received  some  direct  personal  evidence 
p.  bis  fitness  for  a  Christian  life.  It  is  not  so- 
be  IS  no  better  Christiiin  than  the  man  who 
never  sees  any  visions,  but  spends  his  lite  do- 
ing aood  to  his  fellow  men.  and  endeavorinff 
to  obey  the  conimandmenTs  of  God 

I  do  not  say  that  an  emotive  lire  is  not  to  be 
desued.  where  emotion  is  nnest  of  the  soul 
and  |oined  to  full  ethical  life  it  is  normal, 
beautiful,  desirable.  Men  seek  in  revivals  to 
carry  up  their  feelings  to  intensity,  to  kindle 
emhusiasm.  I  believe  the  mind  carried  up  is 
exerting  Itself  in  a  higher  plane,  but  I  do  not 
think  being  always  in  a  high  state  of  excite- 
ment is  the  best  life.  It  may  to  eood,  but  not 
necessary.  Hitrb  feelinffs  appeal  to  the 
imagination,  and  aP.  high  feelimrs  mingle  with 
The  imagination.  All  men  love  excitement, 
which  is  loving  life.  It  is  sousht  by  some  ov 
theaidof  stimuiaats,  but  we  may  seek  excite- 
ment in  moral  as  well  as  in  physical  life. 
ihereisDivine  intoxicntion,  and  one  may  seek 
moral  exoitemeut  to  his  damajre.  He  mav 
have  intense  faith,  be  prayerful  and  devout  in 
alhisrehgiousobsei-vancos^  and,  after  all,  be 
selfish,  cij.  eless,  and  even  dishonest  in  busines's 
matters,  |f  tempted.  One  may  live  in  excitt 
menj'^efp,  rejoice,  and  take  on,  and  yet  In-  ; 
waidly  ha  may  be  a  seeker  of  his  own  joy  ' 

Have  you  never  seen  an  exceedinsly  pious 
person,  but  very  disagreeable  ?  Such  persons 
may  spentj  houis  by  themselves  in  praygr,  and 
When  they  come  out  thev  make  you  c-ish  thev 
had  staid  longer.  They  talk  of  heaven  and  re- 
ia:ion,  yet  are  obstinate ;  not  disposed  to 
rri!'"*.  ^J  ^^^-  '°  pympalby  with  mankind. 
1  hey  lmx\{i  as  icicles,  pure,  but  cold.  There  is 
nioie  virtne  in  men  who  maintain  even 
decency  than  in  others  who  are  considered 
K-ood  Christians.  ' 


